Conduit
by NightElfCrawler
Summary: He was strangely drawn to the scavenger, and couldn't explain why. Something about her very presence spoke to him in a way nothing else had, not in his year of self-imposed exile, not since turning his back on the New Order and himself. He was becoming drunk with her presence, lost in those timeless hazel eyes as he watched her backlit by the brilliance of Jakku's rising sun.
1. Chapter 1: The Scavenger

Notes:

This is an Alternate Timeline story.

What would happen to the events in The Force Awakens if Kylo Ren had turned away from the Order on his own before the assault on Jakku? Abandoning his name, his life, his connections, he slips into the shadows, lost in ways even he cannot define, until the Force guides him to intercept another whose fate intertwines with his own.

The plot assumes certain things:

1\. Some events are constant, and therefore aren't changed by character participation or lack thereof. The story will proceed relying on those events and the timing already set in motion.

2\. Other things are influenced by the ripple effect. One character's choice can have profound influence on those around him or her. Some things are obvious, some more subtle.

3\. Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are at war within the same mind. Ben won out before the story began, and is therefore more influential in how he interacts... meaning he's less sadistic and homicidal than in cannon proper. I am in awe of those who can accurately capture the raw emotions that make up the conflict within him. I, sadly, am still practicing my hand at it. (Also known as, I suck at writing full-on bad scary dudes.) This may make him appear calmer and slightly out of character. It's done intentionally. He's had a year to mull things over and come to terms with a few things.

A few key things to note:

\- I have been writing fanfiction since the 90's, though this is my first cannon Star Wars fic. I wrote for my original wookiee a bit, but never anything as intense as this story. Apologies if anything is not quite accurate, or copies anyone else. While I've read a few fics on AO3 and , I've tried to make mine it's own entity not borrowing from anyone else. However, a lot of plots get thrown around and re-used repeatedly, so apologies if it resembles any other story, it's not intentional.

\- This is a Kylo/Ben centered story. I like getting in his head. I love Rey dearly, but when considering the story I decided it would be too complicated if I tried to dive into her head as well as his, and it didn't have the depth I liked without going introspective on Ben. I'll give Rey her shot in another fic! On with the angst!

\- Since Kylo never leads the attack for the map, and Hux is in charge, Finn was not present and therefore does not have his moment while on Jakku. Don't worry, he'll still get his screentime, but it will be a bit later. Likewise poor Poe is a guest of the Order longer than necessary, since they have to resort to ordinary interrogation techniques to make him break, instead of Kylo's mind techniques.

\- Han and Chewie fall on hard times. Because early reunions ruin the fun.

\- There is really only one romance taking center stage in the story, and I am purposely keeping it PG. Feel free to enjoy without needs for tags. I enjoy my sordid stories as much as the next gal, but there's no place for it in this tale. Any other relationships are solely interpreted on the behalf of you the reader, and not intentional. (aka feel free to fantasize, but don't read too much into it.)

\- Rey's backstory remains elusive intentionally. Feel free to theorize, but you won't get answers quickly.

\- This story is in three episodes following the three new movies. This is episode seven (obviously). The full arc will take 3 episodes to complete, so bear with the repetition of following the same events of TFA. I've tried not to make it too boring and predictable. And there is a serious divergence in the final climax of the Act.

And finally, I make no claim of ownership to anything, this is purely a honorary way to revel in the bliss that is Star Wars. My hat goes off to you, writers, directors and visionaries who helped create this wonderful universe and memorable characters. I am honored to try my hand at it.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

* * *

Chapter 1: The Scavenger

The desert wind was hot, arid and smothering. Nonetheless, he found the open sands laid bare in the glaring sunlight to be a beautiful scene.

Something about the stark emptiness to the land that met with flawless blue sky made him feel small, not a feeling he was used to, especially in such a large galaxy as this. When one could easily move between planets in a mere flick of a switch, the ability to feel insignificant, powerless, was sometimes lost in the great expanse of creations and inventions.

But there were times when the Force pulled that away, stripped it bare. Where he could meditate alone with noone for miles about, and realize that he was adrift on a sea of light, with only himself to mar its flawless nature.

Well... himself and the ruined husk of the Star Destroyer looming behind him.

If there was one place Kylo Ren had ever thought he would ever visit, it certainly was not Jakku.

He had never been here before, but certainly knew OF it. After all, it had been a major deciding battle that had squashed the last remnants of the Empire, plunging the galaxy into a new era of relative calm. That had been well before his time, of course. And before that, the Emperor had a secret base of operations here, or so the rumors went. No one had ever found such a base, of course. But if one was to be found, it held a wealth of potential knowledge, and lost weaponry that might prove useful… or valuable.

He grimaced, and glanced down, away from the endless seas of sand to stare at his black-gloved hand. It was familiar, anchored him to who he was in this faceless place. He was just one man, a small dot of ink against a blank parchment, isolated from all else but his own churning thoughts to keep him company. And as always, he found it difficult to focus with his head so full. Haunting images of his past, of the man, of the boy, he once was still lingered in his mind during times like this. He had never excelled at meditation, he lacked the temperament and patience to focus. His method to cope typically ended with violent redecorating.

Dark umber eyes slowly lifted back to the desert laid bare before him, regarding the sand-swept dunes impassively. Perhaps that is why he found this place so calming. Anything written in the sand was wiped away clean in only a few hours, the wind sweeping his footsteps up and paving them over, filling them in, leaving no trace. It calmed him. Perhaps this is what the Force was meant to feel like, a clean slate, a balance between discord and harmony.

Odd that he had to come to Jakku to find what even began to resemble a bit of peace.

He sighed, wiping sweat from the bottom of his brow. Despite the thick thermal shielded black robes he had purchased off one of the wandering tribes native to this planet, he still found the heat smothering. He had never liked hot planets. His blood ran abnormally hot as it was, complimenting his notorious temper, and the heat only further encouraged his emotions to run rampant. He found himself scowling for no reason in particular, a common habit, despite the months that had distanced him from his former life. In an attempt to distract his thoughts from the dwelling darkness, he pulled the drape of black cloth free of his face, unscrewed the canteen from his belt, taking a swig of the warm water before resting his arm across his knee, leaning on it slightly. The shadows had crept up behind him, looming Star Destroyer sheltering him from the worst of the sun. During the heat of the day, this was the ideal spot to seek refuge, as cool air kept trapped within lowered the temperature by several degrees. A slight breeze drifted through the interior, bringing the distinct odor of stale fuel, exhaust lines, and burnt ozone from long-dead engines somewhere broken in pieces above him.

His gaze swept up into the dark depths looming above him. Somewhere above him was something that he wanted. Something that he had trudged all the way out here to find, specifically this wreck. Something that whispered to him in his mind, urging him to come here. He didn't know what it was, had no clue where to find it. But it called to him nonetheless.

Pulling the cloth back over his face once more to conceal it from the rest of the world, he rose to his feet and turned, preparing to make his ascent.

He promptly froze mid-step.

Another figure stood there, not more than a few feet away.

Clothed in white rough-spun fabric and discolored from time in the sand, it was obvious the scavenger had not anticipated encountering him either, as they both had stopped dead in their tracks. In one hand, the scavenger gripped a staff constructed of what appeared to be an old strut from the very wreckage they stood in, the other held a bag full of parts. Goggles reflected his own eyes back at him, revealing nothing of the other's face to analyze, but he could sense surprise and wariness radiating off the person standing before him.

 _How it was this scavenger managed to surprise me?_ The thought tickled in his mind, itching to be asked.

 _You are becoming weak._

His brow creased slightly irritated at his internal monologue. Slowly he straightened his shoulders from the relaxed hunch he was more comfortable with, bringing himself to his full height, which sadly seemed to dwarf the petite figure opposing him. He had no desire for a fight in this place. It was inconvenient to expend extra energy on a worthless desert rat. Besides, he was in one of his rare good moods in which he did not instinctively reach for the hilt of his lightsaber, pressing firmly against his belt where it was hidden within his robes.

Fortunately, it seeme the scavenger was as unwilling to start a conflict as he. **"Tuk'vara nashra."**

He blinked, startled. He had not been expecting a woman's voice. "What?"

There was a pause, then slowly one slim hand reached down to lift the goggles from her face, then tugged the cloth covering her mouth down below her chin, revealing a sun-kissed freckled face with vibrant hazel eyes watching him intently. "You know…" she spoke, her tone tinged with amusement though her face remained somber. "...if you're going to dress like the natives, you might want to pick up a few words."

 _Oh. Right._

He felt a sudden wash of heat that had little to do with the scorching heat around them. He had been so absorbed with trying to figure out how thisgirl had snuck up on him, he'd forgotten his strange attire. A flash of anger, self-directed, lashed out before he snuffed it down quickly. It would not do to lose his temper here. It had been entirely his own fault for being distracted enough to forget his ruse. "I suppose you have a point." He murmured, deep voice grudgingly admitting his slip-up.

"And you might want to stick to their territory… The Na'tu don't come out this far east. They stick to the mountains." She had a strange way about her, along with a bold fearless attitude. It struck him as curious. The scavengers he had met on this planet up until now had been downright ruthless and cared nothing of small talk, let alone geographical advice.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah." She faced him, promptly crossing her arms over her chest, a sharp look directed straight at him. "This is my turf. No one else comes out here, and there's not much left to pick over. Go find your own wreck." And with that, she promptly swept by, leaving him standing there.

He blinked, speechless, completely at a loss. There were very few times anyone had commanded him to do something and meant it. Few dared.

Begrudgingly, he found himself liking this girl.

Turning, he watched as she made her way across the wreck, out into the dwindling sun on the lee side. Despite his initial instinct to avoid people, he found his boots taking long steps to catch up to her, emerging into the sun to watch her load up a flat piece of leather with her find, sit down on it, and prepare to slide down the berm.

A thought occurred to him. "Wait."

She paused, glancing sharply over her shoulder. He slowly approached, coming to stop a few inches from her. Scanning her equipment, swiftly appraising it he realized that she was far better suited to do what he had intended to, scale the interior of the ship. She was clearly familiar with this wreck, and knew it well. In addition, she had tools he did not have, which would make the job take half as long. The speeder too was a distinct advantage, if he could barter for a ride to the nearest outpost it would save him three nights of walking through the open desert. Despite his better judgement, he found himself asking for her help.

"What if I knew a place where there was something worth salvaging." He saw interest percolate in her eyes instantly, but she did not speak. "I may not know this planet, but I know these ships. Have you searched the officers quarters?"

"Yeah." She responded warily. "Their rooms are way up there, hard to reach. Been there once, found nothing other than a few baubles."

"What if there was more, only hidden in compartments meant to deceive the eyes?"

It was clear he had her. Scavengers had superb instincts over what parts on a ship were valuable, but they didn't think like an Imperial Officer hiding contraband. They only saw what they could take, not what they could find. "And you know where to find these hidden spots, I take it?" She asked, obviously wary, as her gaze snapped up and down his frame, trying to determine if he was attempting to swindle her.

"I do." He said somberly, internally amused. "You have the tools I do not. Assist me, and I will split the finds with you. It would be more than worth your while."

She was silent, gauging him with those intense hazel eyes for what seemed to be a long breath of time. But he could read her like an open book. She was tempted by his offer. Perhaps even desperate. It occurred to him a scavenger such as she most likely lived find to find to make ends meet, and her lithe form did not speak of one with food to spare. Finds meant credits which translated into food and water for survival. His offer was more than tempting, it was common sense.

"Fine. On one condition." He remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. "I go alone. You wait here. I'll find it, just tell me where."

His eyebrow arched beneath the cloth wrappings. He was tempted to inquire just why he would trust her with such a thing. They barely knew one another, and she was asking him to give away his trump card so she could theoretically reap the benefits.

 _Kill her, take the tools_ , the whispers of his mind urged. _What possible reason could you have to keep her around?_ Annoyed, he clamped down on his thoughts, scowling at himself.

She couldn't go far without her speeder; the nearest outpost he'd been told was three days walk. That was three days in brutal searing heat, a feat even he dared not risk during daylight hours. By the looks of her, the garb she wore was light cloth, cheap and worn. She would not stand a chance on a trek through the desert. At night, the wildlife came out; he had seen the bones of those who dared to travel, scattered across the wastelands. If he stood sentinel over her speeder, she could not return without confronting him. And he could always take the vehicle himself, if it came down to needs.

So, he considered her proposition. There was a 'but' there somewhere, he felt. "And in exchange for this information, your cut is...?"

"Seventy-Thirty." She said firmly. "No less. I do the work, I get the bigger share."

"Sixty-Forty." He countered. "And you give me a ride to the outpost."

"You've got to be joking." She snorted. "Seventy-Thirty, or I leave you here." She knew she had him. There was no loss if she turned and left right now, she would just come back later and scour the quarters on her own. He would be forced to walk to town, at risk at being mugged by the other scavengers that roamed the desert, or eaten by something far worse. He had to hand it to her. She was unafraid and knew how to hold her ground. Still, he knew a thing or two about haggling, and reached into his satchel, pulling out a tightly wrapped package and holding it up. "Sixty-Forty, and you get this now, and more afterwards." He tossed the package at her.

She caught it deftly and held it up, sniffing slightly before her eyes widened in astonishment. He barely had time to marvel at her speed, before the wrapping was torn apart, and she was stuffing the dry meat into her mouth in tight strips, barely taking time to breathe between bites. "Deal!"

It was all he could do NOT to smile.

 _Something about this girl…_

A shadow passed over his face, as he suddenly felt severely uncomfortable. And he did not know why.

They didn't waste time. With the light swiftly fading, she only assembled a small supply of materials before ascending back into the darkness of the hold. He watched her as she danced between the rafters, weaving back and forth before finally vanishing. He took a seat at the base of her rope, crossing his legs in the sand and sighed softly as he relaxed, shutting his eyes and falling into a familiar meditative posture. Breathing in and out slowly, he let his feelings reach out, sensing her high above him, her innate curiosity tickling his senses, as he followed her progress from one floor to the next, searching.

 _This girl…_

He found his mind wandering back to her face. There was something noble, something foreign to her, not worn by time and heat as most residents of this planet were… and something familiar that he could not quite place. Those eyes, so intense, so bold, so fierce, they held a fire that lit something deep within him, stirring his own thoughts.

 _A fragrant burst of flowers filled his nostrils, giggle rising on the wind._

He started, eyes opening unsure where that image had come from.

In the past year, he had kept to the shadows, as was his nature. Conflict, confusion had swayed his path away from people, leery of being recognized. No matter only a select few knew his face, and among them, even less could connect it to the two names that haunted his memories. _Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are dead._ He had allowed his skills to be employed by mercenary groups, cutthroats who earned coin and traveled to make a living, not his first choice of work, but it kept him mobile, and away from the questioning gaze of First Order battalions. A year spent avoiding the inevitable leer of dancing girls sidling up to him in bars, drawing annoyed looks from his companions when he turned them down. He could not afford attachments, and intimacy was the most dangerous of all. He knew he was viewed as odd, an outsider, but that was where he preferred to lurk... in the shadows, watching.

 _And shadows do not linger when daylight approaches._

He shook his head, eyes opening as he broke away from his thoughts. _No. Not tonight._ He frowned, self-loathing wrapping around his soul, chiding him for allowing his thoughts to drift. He would not give in to his weakness. He had no name, he was a ghost. And a ghost he would stay until he figured out where he belonged, which path he was to walk. The light, the dark, neither was correct. He was a child out of balance, floundering in a world where choices defined which side you fought for, how you walked through life.

He had no direction. He had lingered on both sides, and found each to be distasteful.

A sound broke him away from his thoughts, and he lifted his eyes upwards to spot the scavenger descending. Even from this far back, he could feel the pride rippling off of her like a beacon.

 _Good. She found it then._

Smoothly, he rose to his feet just as she hit the ground, grinning from ear to ear. "I had NO idea…" She gasped, showing him the bag. Glancing down, he felt some satisfaction at seeing the horde. Credit chips, datapads, some jewelry, spice bags, stims. All that was fine, enough to help him buy passage off of the planet. But the real find was the soft pale glow of the crystal nestled amidst the credit chips, fine white surface cut in sharp angles, color undefinable. "Do you know how much this is worth?" she asked breathlessly.

"I can imagine."

"Enough to buy my own ship! I've NEVER had this much in my whole life!"

He couldn't help but feel a burst of pity for her, something utterly out of character for him.

 _Poor girl… so naive._

She no doubt had never left the planet, never considered it. To be confronted with wealth beyond her dreams, to which amounted barely enough to pay a smuggler's wage was utterly sad.

And somehow, endearing.

"Right, well come on then." He blinked, noticing she had already begun walking away. She tossed the bag onto her makeshift sled and pushed off, sliding effortlessly down the sand.

Despite himself, he was impressed at her ingenuity, and resigned himself to following her the more difficult way, boots buried in the deep sand as he slid cautiously down the steep incline.

He met up with her as she finished lashing the find to the netting on the side of the speeder. She threw him a look before mounting the seat with an expert spring of her legs, starting the engine with an expert twist of her wrist, pulling her goggles down around her eyes in preparation for departure.

Then, she offered a hand down to him, fingers spread wide, inviting him to take hold.

Glancing up at her face, he was met with an open resolute expression of honesty. She fully intended to honor their agreement. She didn't have to, he knew. She easily could have gunned it and took off, and there would have been nothing he could have done to stop her without revealing his ruse. A simple twist of his hand could disable any part he chose, but he would have a hard time explaining it should she ask. Besides, he would still have had to walk to town unless he flat-out stole the speeder.

And even he was not so crude.

After a moment's hesitation, he accepted her hand, mentally noting how small her fragile flesh felt against the wide leather grip of his glove. He slung himself up behind her, taking care to tuck his robes close to his body to avoid being pulled in to the engine. There was little room to budge on the seat, and so he pressed close to her, feeling a slight tense to her body as his hands fell to her waist briefly, before he thought better of it, allowing them to shift to grasp the metal bindings behind him. His legs tightened reflexively as the speeder pulled forward, maintaining his balance and posture with minimal effort.

As they sped through the dunes, the sharp sting of sand against his exposed flesh caused him to wrap the black cloth closer, lowering his head so that it nearly rested on her shoulder before him.

He felt her tense even more, and became acutely aware he needed to control himself, lest he end up face-first in the sand with an elbow to his jaw.

He quickly focused his gaze on the horizon, taking in the expanse of azure sky kissing the undulating waves of sand spread out in all directions around them. It all appeared the same, minute after minute, hour after hour. How one was not driven to madness by the lack of changing scenery baffled him.

One thing did catch his attention, however.

Burning bright next to the moon, was something moving far too fast to be a star or even a satellite. Familiar with how ships appeared from the ground, he watched it intently. There was little chance he had been followed here. He had been quite careful in his ruse, using false names complete with forged identities. But there was no mistaking the shining spots in the sky. No small cargo vessels were large enough to show up to the naked eye. Those were massive ships, meant for something far more than hauling smuggled goods.

It was more than likely coincidence. After all, he had already experienced his fair share of run-ins with the First Order. And none of them had ended with anyone dismembered.

Yet. The cold laughter echoed in his mind.

He shook his head, locking down the cage which kept his thoughts locked behind his meticulously crafted walls. He would not be swayed. He had come too far to listen to the vestigial remnants of his alter ego goad him into making a mistake.

Nonetheless, the feeling nagged at him, persisted, and would not renege.

When finally the speeder began to slow, he returned his thoughts to the present. No lights shone nearby, the twilight having impressed itself down upon the setting sun. Frowning, he turned his attention instead towards a metal shape looming in the dusk before them, frame oddly familiar.

She must have sensed his confusion, half-turning her head as she approached the metal hull of what he now recognized to be the blasted out husk of an Imperial Walker. "We can't make Niima Outpost this late. They set the sensor grid after sundown, nothing in or out without setting off the alarms, and they don't take kindly to strangers showing up asking for favors when that happens. We'll have to go in the morning. You can stay here with me until then." She paused, following his stare. "It's not much. I don't have a spare bunk, so you'll have to settle for the ground. But if a sandstorm hits, you'll want the shelter. They can be brutal."

 _She is oddly trusting, for a scavenger. Foolish, girl._

He almost snarled aloud. This was becoming irksome. Never had his inner voice been so... persistent as of late.

Coming to a stop beside the walker, the two of them dismounted. She began unloading their loot from the netting, piling it onto the makeshift sled before heading over towards the walker. Halfway there, she paused, glancing back at him, her expression suddenly fierce again. "By the way. If you try anything, I'll ram my staff so far up your hull you'll be seeing stars without a hyperdrive."

 _Well then..._

He permitted a rare smile behind his dark robes, and inclined his head once, accepting her terms. He had no interest in taking advantage of her. Though, she wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at, and he liked her fire and spunk. In addition, those hazel eyes seemed to draw him in, unbidden...

 _No, stop right there. Rewind._

He ducked inside the hatch, glancing about the dim interior, taking stock of her refuge. It was crowded, junk everywhere, most of which appeared to be sentimental without much value. Some dried flowers in a clay vase with a brown ribbon tied around it, and a few empty bowls and tools sat scattered on varied surfaces. Rough spun pillows stuffed with grass were covered by a utilitarian military blanket, a second one folded neatly across the makeshift bed. He blinked. _Is that a straw doll in a Rebellion flight suit?_ He honestly didn't want to ask.

He was distracted by a loud clatter as she dumped the hoard in the center of a low table, spreading it out so they could go through their find. "How did you know where to find all this stuff anyway?" Her hazel eyes lifted, meeting his with unbound curiosity. "You're not from Jakku, are you?"

"What gave it away?" he asked, amused.

"You walk too stiffly on the sand, like you don't expect it to move." She threw him a wry smirk. "The walk of someone used to city streets, not the desert. And anyone who's from Jakku knows how to walk the desert."

He had to hand it to her… she was observant, and she was right. "And clearly you have mastered walking the desert."

"I grew up here." She shrugged, then abruptly held out her hand. "Rey."

He paused, surprised at the sudden introduction. Instantly, his guard slammed up as he quickly sought a way to answer her. The best answer would be to reply with the alias he'd been using when he arrived, just in case he encountered any of the mercs he'd been working with. He found the irony to be rather thick, considering he had accumulated quite the collection of forged ID's since going rogue. However, a sense of disquiet shifted within him as he realized hearing her use a false name did not feel right, and he couldn't define the reason why. Perhaps it was because she had been so open and honest with him, he felt the need to reciprocate, even a little.

But there was one name he was not yet ready to use again. So, he settled on a compromise that was close enough. "Ren."

Greetings set aside, she turned and grabbed a bowl, handing it to him, then pouring some water inside before filling her own and drinking deeply. It gave him a moment to reflect, staring at the dingy water, acutely aware of just how little this girl Rey had to her name. He admitted, though he thought his life had not been easy, compared to hers a life of never having to wonder where your next meal came from was simple luxury. He forbade his thoughts from wandering far enough back to distract his focus, but considered the utilitarian meals of the New Order regiment. Nutritious, plain, and packed with everything a soldier needed to survive. It had been far from gourmet, but it had been functional.

Even that would seem like a feast to Rey.

She would have called him spoiled.

Well, perhaps he was.

He glanced at her back as she rummaged. If he was going to spend time with the scavenger, then the inevitable was to happen. He was not afraid of what she would see when he removed his trappings, but it had become such a force of habit to hide his face, that he found himself uncomfortable as he reached up and pulled the heavy weave of cloth away from his head, baring his pale face which stood starkly inappropriate for the desert planet. He felt the grit of sand clinging to his hairline, invading his mouth and crusting his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face to clear it before taking a slow sip of the muddied water, tasting grit.

He really hated sand.

"Here… It's not…" Rey started to say, before trailing off abruptly. He glanced up to find what had disrupted her chain of thought, only to notice wide hazel eyes staring at him, her hand frozen where a chunk of dry-bread sat extended, waiting to be accepted.

Clearly, whatever she had envisioned shrouded behind his desert garb, the dark tousled curls, chiseled features and youthful appearance to match the deep voice had not been on the top of her list. He was amused to see a splash of color dot her cheeks. Nonetheless, the intense scrutiny made him highly uncomfortable, and he ducked his head, avoiding looking at her, focusing his attention on taking another sip of water.

The benefits of a mask. No one could see his discomfort. It was easy to hide behind.

He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

It lasted only a moment. She recovered, blinking and shaking her head, sinking into a comfortable cross-legged position on the floor across the makeshift table. He accepted the bread as she offered it to him, noticing it was spongy and of low-quality instant yeast. It was edible, that much he admitted as he took a bite into it, and did his best to hide the disgust that filled his senses. Tasteless, packed with nutrients; the perfect rations for someone who had nothing. He could only stomach one bite, before he set it down in the bowl, aware that her portion was half-gone.

Without hesitation, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two bundles of the same meat he had given her earlier, one he placed before her, the other he took for himself and began to pull strips off the salted rind. A second rummage produced a few dried fruits that he had kept wrapped in a rough cloth, to which he offered her, before bringing out a second canteen, dumping the water in the bowl out on the sand, before filling it with a strongly fruit-smelling liquid that tingled the senses the moment he poured. He didn't inquire, but merely took her bowl and repeated the process, assuming she would not protest to having a taste of alien wine.

The wonder on her face was almost painful.

He sipped slowly, enjoying the dancing tang on his tongue, the burn in his stomach as it settled comfortably there. He didn't often imbibe, but felt given the circumstances, it didn't hurt tonight.

She was sniffing the liquid in her bowl experimentally, tilting it to and fro to watch the color bleed onto the clay surface. "What... is this?"

"Corellian Wine." He offered. "Not the best quality. I think the heat soured it slightly."

He didn't miss the look of fascination on her face. "Never had spirits before. Smells funny." She took another sniff then set it down, obviously wary. No doubt she was used to drunkards from the local bars getting into raucous fights, and decided she would rather not risk it. Instead, she tore into the meat, more than happy to indulge in the special treat of salted rind.

Her eyes lifted, glittering with curiosity. "So what's it like?"

Somehow he didn't think she was talking about the food. He stared at her, expression blank, but his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he tried to discern what she meant.

"Out there." Her hand waved towards the stars. "I've always wanted to go! See the galaxy." She leaned forward, lowering her voice almost conspiringly, green eyes sparkling with unhidden excitement. "Have you seen many worlds?"

 _If only she knew._ He slowly sat back, tugging the gloves off his hand, flexing his fingers to dry them of excess sweat. "Many."

"It must be wonderful... What's it like, space travel?" She leaned forward, eyes ever so eager. "Do you feel the acceleration in space? What's light-speed REALLY feel like? A bothan trader told me it was like having your molecules disassembled and put back together, but then I might have misunderstood, his accent was quite thick."

The questions were so rapid fire, he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Yet, she continued to stare at him expectantly, real hope in her eyes at the idea of learning something that had quite obviously been out of her reach for so long. The idea of this young girl being so isolated as to not know basic things such as star travel… A strange impression of his old Master flashed before his mind, a memory flickering to life, though the details evaded him through layers of denial at opening his soul to that forgotten portion of himself. He forced his mind to turn away from that diversion, focusing back on the moment.

"You feel acceleration, depending on the ship. Larger ships you hardly notice, small ships you do. And that trader was clearly lying to you. Traveling that fast does not scramble your molecules."

A wide grin split her face at that, and a wistful expression crossed over her face. "I'd like to try it one day."

"So why don't you?" It was the obvious question. Surely one as resourceful as she would have found a way off the planet by now, if she so chose.

Apparently, that had been the wrong question to ask. Her expression shifted from one of wistful thinking, to resigned reluctance. "...I can't. I have to stay here."

He didn't ask why. Somehow, he didn't have to. The expression of longing she wore spoke millions. He had seen that expression before… on his mother's face when waiting for his father to return.

 _Ah, no. That was not intentional._

He lowered his gaze, focusing on the wine as he buried that thought quickly, grip tightening on the bowl as a brief flash of anger rose to the surface at the memory. Since when had he started thinking about THEM? The cold dark recesses of his mind roiled, furious.

Instead, he distracted himself by picking up one of the datapads, turning it over as it flickered to life, then died. The battery was fried. More than a few were in similar state, a couple were broken or cracked, but the parts would fetch a decent price. The credits amounted to just shy of 20,000, the baubles just shy of that. All in all, she had enough from her share to cover several years of rations. She would be living in relative comfort, with no need to scavenge at all.

And then, her fingers found the last item wedged at the bottom of the pile.

Of course, he knew what it was. How could he not. Though he was at a loss on how an Imperial Officer had one.

Rey was fascinated, turning the crystal over in her hand, watching the colors flicker. Unbidden, he found himself idly wondering something he had not considered for years. Just what color would it be if he were to claim it as his own?

Synthetic crystals were easier to come by. His own saber had one imbedded in the hilt, cracked, flawed, but functional. It fit him, his wild personality, unstable nature, so too did the crystal refract it. He felt a special bond in the first weapon he had crafted on his own. Prior to that, he had held one other, but it had been lost to him... and he had not crafted it. The crystals were rare enough in the galaxy following the Empires' downfall that to find one amounted to a virtual treasure. If Rey was to sell it, she could buy her own armada.

 _Of course, that crystal is ours_ , seethed the voice in his mind. _After all, we sent her to fetch it, knowing it was there, feeling it's call all the way from Niimu the Hutt's palace..._

But that wasn't the reason he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

 _There was something else..._

Rey seemed to sense his fascination, and held the crystal out to him, completely oblivious to the tumult of thoughts raging in his mind. Hesitating for a moment, he reached for it then stopped, fingers coming inches away from its multi-faceted surface. An itch in the base of his skull tickled at him, and he felt a sudden sharp impression of wariness, curling his fingers back and not touching it.

"What is it?"

He wanted to answer her, but his words stuck in his throat. How could he explain such a thing to her? She had no possible knowledge of the kyber crystal's history, of the painful legacy that followed the desperate hunt that spanned systems. Junkers would not appreciate it's value, even rare traders would not be aware of it's properties. So few were left, any who knew could be considered enemies to be reckoned with, none of which he felt they would encounter on Jakku. "I don't know." The lie came strangely easy to his tongue, though it tasted sour. It felt unfair to take advantage of her ignorance. On the other hand, that crystal was all he had come here for.

On the other hand, it wouldn't buy his way off this rock.

He shook his head. "We can't sell it on Jakku. I doubt you'd get anywhere near it's true value. Such things are not found naturally here. It's clearly from another world."

"Yeah." She agreed, brow furrowing in thought. Abruptly she held it out to him. "You take it."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If it's worth that much, I can't take it. It wouldn't be fair. It was your idea to look for the hidden compartments, and you knew we would find things there. So it's yours."

He almost laughed. Almost. Here he had considered swindling her, and she was offering him what had to be the most valuable item on the planet.

He felt slightly dirty as he stared at the crystal as she slid it across the table towards him.

"Lets's see what tomorrow brings." He decided after a moment, carefully scooping the crystal up, it's weight settling into his palm, colors ever-shifting as he wrapped it in a piece of cloth, sliding it into his satchel. "We can decide then."

"Fair enough."

The night was late, and the wine dulled his senses. Rey had not accepted the offered drink, so he finished off her bowl, then politely excused himself as he noticed her eyelids begin to drop with exhaustion. Slipping outside, he settled himself down in the shadow of the walker, staring up at the night sky, the wine warming his insides as the desert air cooled around him.

Why had he agreed to consider the crystals' fate?

 _Because it was the honorable thing to do._

 _Honor. Since when does Kylo Ren think about honor?_

 _Since when does Ben Solo dismiss it?_

Another scowl graced his face, as he stared out into the dark confines of the desert sky.

Needless to say, he did not sleep well that night. And it had nothing to do with the sand beneath his back.

* * *

Notes:

And there you have it, first chapter.

I enjoy reviews and comments, but please don't nitpick my grammar or spelling, it's a pet peeve. I'm only human, I write how I feel, which sometimes isn't perfect, I know. However, I'm fully open to any thoughts, theories, or appraisals as to your opinions on the story and characters. I thrive on making others writhe in torment waiting for the next chapter.

On a side note... I'm searching for a roleplay partner. It's been some time since I've had good solid story writing to stoke my creative fires, and I can't get enough of it! If my writing style appeals to you, and you'd like to try and partner with me, don't be shy! Be aware my OTP is Rey and Ben/Kylo, especially the struggle for two opposites of the force trying to unite as one. But I am open to ideas. Hit me up if interested!

Next Chapter: The Flight


	2. Chapter 2: The Flight

Summary:

Ghosts from his past, and of hers, spiral into a strange twist of fate that begins a chain of events that neither of them can escape.

And he really hadn't expected to be stealing his father's ship.

* * *

Chapter 2: The Flight

The mornings on Jakku dawned sooner than most, warmth heating up the sands upon moments of the sun rising. The night had been cool, but not enough for him to feel discomfort, bundled in his dark robes as he sat observing the starry sky. Sleep had not come quickly nor effortlessly. His thoughts had remained locked on the turn of events that had brought his fate in coordination with the scavenger's. Was it fate? Luck? Or something more sinister?

 _Why bother with her? She means nothing to you? She will only bring out the weakness within, Ben Solo._

He couldn't deny that.

He was strangely drawn to the scavenger, and couldn't explain why. Something about her very presence spoke to him in a way nothing else had, not in his year of self-imposed exile, not since turning his back on the First Order and himself. He was becoming drunk with her presence, lost in those timeless hazel eyes as he watched her backlit by the brilliance of Jakku's rising sun.

She would be his downfall. Or he would be hers.

As the sun rose, he shifted from his resting position, stretching his limbs and permitting himself to perform his usual morning exercises, limbering his limbs, keeping his strength at it's peak. It was a series of poses, movements and postures designed to enhance his fighting style, though he made a point not to practice with a weapon for obvious reasons. He had shed his cloak and weapons, allowing his bare arms and lean body to feel the freedom of the sun's gentle morning kiss, black vest and cargo pants giving him the appearance of a wraith against the light of the rising sun.

This was how Rey found him, as she exited her shelter, rubbing the grit from her face. And naturally, she paused to stare. Feeling her eyes on his back, he straightened from an alteration of a Juyo form, and turned his head, regarding her with enigmatic umber eyes. She flushed quickly, as she finally realized she had been gawking, turning to her speeder as she hauled their find and began slinging it into the nets mounted on the transport.

"We'll go into town, sell this to Unkar Plutt… He's a greasy schutta, but he's the fairest price around." Rey said, as he approached, wrapping his cloak around his body and securing his blaster to his hip, buckling his pouch and satchel beneath the robes. "I can't tell you how many times he's cheated me out of a fair day's' work just because someone else came up with something better moments before. Still, he's better than the Hutts. They're not about to pay you even a tenth of what these go for on the open market." She paused, glancing back at him as he finished wrapping the black cloth back around his face. "What do you plan to do? Buy your passage on a ship? Not many coming and going from Niima Outpost."

"I can bide my time." He murmured. "I am not in a particular rush to leave."

"Good… because with the trade routes interrupted, it might be a few days."

A stir of alarm struck him. _Trade routes interrupted?_ "Why? What is going on?"

"I heard rumors." she admitted, pulling her head wrapping back on, goggles sliding over her face as she prepared to mount the speeder. "Some say it's just the usual trade sanctions on the Reaches." She pulled herself up, then turned to offer him a hand, which he accepted, mounting the seat behind her. "Others say they've seen big ships in orbit… and a lot of activity from the outposts in the next sector."

 _The First Order._ He instantly knew it was them. Had they tracked him here? Were they aware of his presence? He couldn't think of another reason they would be interested in Jakku. It might be a coincidence, but Kylo Ren had long since stopped believing that things just happened without a reason.

 _All the more reason to leave. As soon as possible._

They sped into town, a trip which only took half a klick on her speeder. The desert in this area was flatter, a plateau of salt beds and shimmering mirages even in the early morning's cooler influence. Pedestrians made their way towards the clusters of tents and troughs, scavengers, traders and mercenaries mostly. The usual rough crowd he found familiar in the outer regions beyond the influence of the Order or the Resistance. The Hutts cared little for indulgences outside of their own greedy mitts. Thus, it was a cutthroat environment, the rich getting richer, the poor forever encased in poverty.

This place was one of the latter.

As he slid off the speeder, he gazed about, noting the tents appeared permanent fixtures, yet supple enough to withstand the strong winds of the dry plains. A few permanent buildings sat there, such as a communications tower and ruined vehicles that had been constructed into a welcome arch into the outpost, of sorts. A junkyard of parts, old speeders and ships sat just outside the rather crude archway erected as a welcome sign, wind catching the canvas tarps and shifting them in the breeze. A mix of nomads, scavengers, alien off-worlders and droids mingled about, all keeping to themselves, heads down and minding their own business.

Rey seemed right at home. "Come on. Unkar Plutt is over this way." She began dragging their horde, crossing the open grounds towards the tallest tent in the center of the complex. He followed her, reluctantly, eyes shifting to the skies, seeing no starships taking off. This was not promising. He was aware their location was backwater, he hadn't realized it was positively forgotten by the entire galaxy.

He waited patiently outside the central tent where Rey had gone to negotiate a payment for their findings, eyes carefully studying their environment, watching for any signs of trouble. He could sense her within, growing frustrated and annoyed, voice raising in clear dissatisfaction of what she was being offered. Clearly the man she was bargaining with was not giving her a fair deal, but she would have a better chance of negotiating than he would. His short temper made it a risky move to try and haggle with someone who knew the business. He was more likely to snap Unkar Plutt's neck than come to a deal the junker would accept.

After several minutes, she came out, looking irritated. "Here." She held out his share of credit chips, and he pocketed them safely in his belt pouch. "That old narg refuses to give me a fair share… But I threatened him this time." A wry smirk crossed her face. "Told him if he didn't give me what's mine, I'd take my business to his competitor across the way… Vengas. I like him even less, but if he thinks it'll anger Unkar Plutt, he's usually willing to bargain. But Plutt pays more, and he knows better." She looked up, meeting his eyes with her own, those alluring hazel eyes captivating him once more. "...So I guess this is it? You're looking for a ship."

"I suppose so." He turned his gaze back towards the sky, frowning. His options seemed rather limited, however. He might be here a while, something that did not sit well with him.

"You won't have much luck, unless you buy one. There's a supply transport once a week that comes, other than that it's hit or miss." She added, tucking behind her ear one of the loose strands of hair that had floated free from her tightly wound buns.

He didn't want his own ship, not particularly. Ships came with maintenance, fees, and questions. It was easier to run, when you had nothing to leave behind. He had been so used to finding his way by watching, listening, forcing himself to take a back seat in matters. It was the only way he could completely lose himself, change who he was, by becoming someone else. he was just a mercenary, an opportunist, a drifter. He did not command, nor did he take commands. He was the perfect blend between the two halves at war within, the raging roiling red wave of emotion that was Kylo Ren, and the insecure uncertain youth of his childhood that was Ben Solo. However, given his options, he was finding that he was either going to have to force someone's hand, or get lucky at sabacc.

He hated sabacc. He was terrible at it. He recalled more than a few times in his youth where his father had tried to teach him the delicate art of bluffing. He had ended up embedding the cards in the wall with his gift, out of frustration.

His hand slipped into his robes, finding the weight of the crystal pressed in the recesses of his satchel, drawing it out and regarding it with contemplation. "We have not yet determined how this is to be negotiated."

Rey's gaze slipped down to the opaque angular surfaces of their special find, brow creasing slightly as she regarded it. There was no way to split it between them, and even were he to offer his share of credits to her, it would not come even close. Not that she knew that.

"Well… do you think we could find a trader at Niimu the Hutt's palace that might know it's value and be able to offer a fair price? If so, it's not that far, a few day's ride."

Niimu the Hutt's palace. The last place he wanted to go. His former mercenary troupe was still camping out there, no doubt spiked up on spice and alcohol. While he was not afraid to deal with them, it might cause undue questions if he returned, especially with the valuable crystal he intended to keep for himself. Mercenaries were no fools, they knew treasure when they saw it. It would be foolish to return there. But without simply taking it, which for some reason he felt oddly reluctant to do, there was no other fair way to determine the cut to give her.

He was about to respond, when he noticed she was no longer paying attention to him, rather her gaze was focused intently on something else across the dusty square. There, struggling with something feisty in a woven net, an alien creature was jabbering something in a language he did not speak, thrusting a long spear at whatever it was he was trying to wrestle.

"Oi!" Rey shouted suddenly and burst forward in a sprint, heading right for the alien. She snarled something in the same language, and the creature froze, spotting her and defensively retorted. But Rey would have none of it, and yanked on the net, the creature skittering back, clearly showing that this was not his first encounter with the spunky girl.

And that was when everything slowed, as the Force gripped his mind, every single bit of attention riveted on the small, round, white and orange droid that had fallen free of the netting.

 _A whisper in the back of his mind, an echo of a familiar voice, lighting racing down his veins._

It was a BB unit, unremarkable aside from the fact it was completely impractical to have on a desert planet such as Jakku. It was designed for information, reconnaissance, and telemetry, a newer release of the droids that were inserted into battle fighters to aid their weaponry.

 _And heavily favored by the Resistance._

Unconsciously, he pulled the cloth closer to his face, though there was a slim chance the droid would know him. Few in this galaxy knew his face, fewer still could connect it with a name. Nonetheless, he still felt uncomfortably wary, as if this single droid were the key to unraveling his very being. His eyes snapped up to the sky, scanning it for any sign of pursuit. The back of his neck was prickling dangerously, a strange pressure clutching at his chest. He was only distantly aware that Rey had won the argument with the creature and was kneeling, speaking to the droid in a quiet tone. He did not hear her question, but he heard the two-tone beeps that responded, and understood their meaning as she did. Rey lifted her head met his eyes, a frown on her face.

However, one swift glance of the area told him that the ruckus had drawn too much attention.

He strode swiftly forward, coming to stop behind her, towering over the droid. "We should not remain here." He murmured in a low tone to her. She threw him an annoyed puzzled look, obviously not catching on to his caution. "This droid does not belong here."

"I think that's obvious." Rey huffed. "He said he's looking for his master…" She turned her attention back to the BB unit, deftly straightening out the bent antenna in her hand. "Where was he last?" The droid's optical sensor flicked from her, up to her dark shadow, obviously not trusting the man with the concealed face. It beeped out a response, shifting on its rotors. "That's leagues away." She mused. "But who took him?" The BB unit seemed to pause, again glancing between them, before reluctantly answering. "Classified. Really? Me too. Big secret." Rey said deftly, mounting the antenna back where it belonged. "Well…" she rested her arm over one bent knee, regarding the droid. "You won't find him here. And there are more traders that will be willing to scrap you for parts if you hang out here alone."

"We should leave it."

The droid was as close to annoyed as a mechanical being could be, the way it rolled back a few inches at the rebuke. Rey did not seem any less annoyed at his suggestion, scowling at him.

"A droid like this will draw attention." _And bring trouble…_

"I'm not leaving him here."

Funny, he mused, how she had already humanized the thing, calling it a 'him', rather than an 'it'. He scowled, but it was hidden behind the cloth covering his face.

"Come on, you can hang with me for now. Leave the dark brooding strange man here to spin his conspiracy theories on his own."

He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly as Rey was already storming off, the droid in close pursuit. He sighed, watching her go. Still…. That feeling lingered, and even grew more intense as he watched her head back towards her speeder. His scowl deepened, and he glared intently up at the sun, as if personifying it as the Force that drove him to do stupid things.

 _Somewhere, out there in the universe, someone was laughing at him._

He shadowed her, heading back towards her speeder, but keeping his distance. If she wanted to keep a droid pet, that was her business. But he felt something was not quite right about this situation. The droid would bring trouble. It was more than likely someone was searching for it. And that someone, he felt, was not going to like it when they found her. He couldn't let her fall into danger that way. She had no idea what the risks were.

Following her, he hadn't gone more than a few feet beyond the perimeter of the camp when he glanced over his shoulder, and paused, studying a hulking crolute who was watching them intently from beneath the canopy of the trading tent they had come from. He slowed, staring, brow furrowing as he regarded who he knew could only be Unkar Plutt, watching from the shadows of the tent.

 _A scream, the sharp sting of sand in his face, tears…_

He jolted, blinking as the image hit him hard, unexpected. It had just been an impression, nothing more. But a strong sense of nostalgia gripped him as he regarded Unkar Plutt. Not noticing he was being watched, the crolute lifted a radio to his mouth and was speaking into it, his gaze never once leaving the droid as it rolled behind Rey.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." he muttered to himself.

And it hadn't come too soon. Not more than a few moments later, he heard it. The tell-tale loud scream of high-pitched engines descending from above.

Rey wasn't even aware of the danger, even as his long stride brought him next to her in a heartbeat, his gloved hand gripping her elbow tightly in warning. She shot him a startled look that warped into anger. "What?! Let me go!"

"We need to go." She froze, the urgency of the warning in his voice giving her pause, as she followed his gaze skywards, green eyes widening in alarm seeing the two TIE fighters arching down from high orbit, heading right towards them. "Now!"

She didn't have to be urged further. She bolted, right towards the edge of the outpost grounds, the BB unit spiraling after her as quickly as it could. He turned, following her, his senses rippling outwards, feeling the electrical fields of the approaching TIE's and enabling him to quickly dodge to one side as a bolt of laser fire exploded into the sand not feet from them. "Run!" He bellowed.

"I'm RUNNING!" Was the furious response. "Why are we being SHOT AT?!"

"Someone wants that droid!" And that someone could only be ONE entity… after all, who else flew TIE fighters?

"Follow me!" She called over her shoulder, before taking a sharp jog to the left, just in time as another blast hit inches from where she would have stepped. She let out a small cry of surprise, but didn't slow, aiming for the junkyard off to their right just outside the outpost limits.

He ducked after her, weaving his way as they bolted through the fleeing throngs of people. These tents would not protect them. He could not take on two TIEs by himself, even the Force could only operate within the limits of it's wielder. He might get lucky and find himself close enough to damage a part of one, but he doubted he could take on two at once. Their only bet was to find an underground bunker, or a ship with ample shields and some guns. In either case, they would have to put up a fight against what soon could easily become an overwhelming flow of backup troops. Where two TIEs came from, more followed.

Which is why when they burst out into Unkar Plutt's shipyard, he felt a sudden lightened sense of hope. Perhaps their luck was turning. Perhaps they would escape with their skins today.

And then his head turned, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Time slowed as his eyes riveted, not on the ship that Ray was gunning for directly before them, but to the old scrapheap to his right. A very familiar old scrapheap, to be precise. He was distantly aware of the laser fire raining down, closer and closer, but his eyes locked on the rusting hull of a tarp-covered ship whose name was seared into his skull.

The _Millennium Falcon_.

There was no mistake, he would have known that ship anywhere. He knew it's halls so well he could navigate it blind. He had spent many a year being chased by Chewbacca, scaling the exterior to repair shielding, buried in the bowels to find a torn fuel line. Even if it were rusting on the bottom of the deepest ocean on Dac, he would have recognized it.

And as luck would have it, that TIE fighter pilot had landed a good shot on the ship Rey had been running towards, encompassing it in a brilliant fireball of destruction… leaving them only one option.

 _Now I KNOW the Force is screwing with me. It has to be._

Rey had diverted, bolting towards the Falcon, screaming at him to move. His feet felt encased in carbonite, melted to the sands as he forced himself to pursue her, else be vaporized by the deadly laser blasts all around them. His heart was pounding fiercely, not from adrenaline, but something that Kylo Ren was utterly unfamiliar with.

 _Fear._

The next few minutes were a blur in his mind. He was aware of climbing aboard, pulling the ramp shut and following her insistence to man the turret blaster. He knew he had not asked if she could fly, but somehow in the back of his mind he was aware she could. What followed was nothing short of a dance of death, laser fire, spinning skies, and in the end, two TIE fighters scattered in pieces across the desert floor as they rocketed skywards, escaping by the skin of their teeth.

It was only then, that he released the blaster controls, and found his hands to be uncharacteristically shaking.

"That was amazing!" Rey's head appeared from above, staring down the ladder at him, her green eyes sparkling in amazement. "Great shooting!" When she got no answer, her elation faded, as she stared down at him, concern etched on her face. "... are you alright Ren?"

 _No. No he wasn't_. His entire world had come unraveled in just the span of an hour. His past was not only catching up with him, but overtaking him. He felt dizzy, sick and strangely distanced from himself. One might have attributed it to the excitement, or even the heat… but that was not the reason.

Somehow, he knew what was going to happen. What was inevitable. He had always been one to deny his Fate was determined by the Force, preferring to walk his own path, deny those that would tell him his destiny. But he knew that the Force was guiding him, right back into the very turmoil he had so very desperately hoped to avoid.

"Hey." A soft hand on his shoulder startled him from his thoughts, and he was aware he had been staring at his shaking hands without answering her. He lifted his gaze, meeting hers, seeing the concern etched there. Depthless hazel eyes stared at him, her face streaked with dirt and freckles, flushed from the rush of excitement and thrill of what had happened. His chest constricted, feeling suddenly oppressive, as if he could not breathe, as he stared at her backlit by the harsh lights of the Falcon's navigation array.

But the moment was suddenly broken, as a shrill warning screamed from behind them, and her head whipped up. Somehow, that sound helped break him from his trance. He didn't have to ask, he knew what that sound was, and both of them ascended hurriedly, making their way to the correct panel. He had to hand it to her, she knew her ships.

They had the ruptured line patched in no time, both leaning back to take a deep breath as the warning stopped.

"I thought we were dead." Rey finally broke the silence. "I've NEVER been in anything like that before."

He sighed, pushing the cloth wrapping off his head, sweat-soaked black hair dripping in his eyes as he ran his hand over his face, wiping it clear of moisture. "You handled it well."

Her eyes lit up with that magical gleam once more. "I had no idea I had that in me. I've flown small pods before, and a few speeders, but nothing like this ship. I didn't even know it COULD fly, honestly. It hasn't in years. It's just sat there collecting rust."

His gaze lifted, roaming the familiar curve of the halls, noting that time had not been kind to the Falcon. She was filthy, old, and rusting. His father would have completely lost it, and shot the one responsible without blinking. "Who had it?" he thought to ask, suddenly curious. He hadn't even realized Han Solo was no longer in possession of the Falcon. Had something happened to him? He realized he didn't even know, and a part of him deep down felt disconcerted by that.

 _Why do you even care, after what he did?_ He didn't bother answering himself.

"Unkar Plutt. He stole it from someone else… who probably stole it before him."

 _Figures._

Despite himself, a faint smile crossed his features as he gazed around, memories thick in his mind as he recognized an old dent that he himself had put there when he had let a pressurized coil break. It had nearly taken Chewie's arm off. The Wookiee had forgiven him though, after all he'd only been five. He placed a hand flat on the wall, scraping away the years of sand and dust that had mucked up the polish. The Falcon had always been a ship for thieves, smugglers and fugitives. They fit right in.

The BB unit beeped, rolling up beside him, warily watching as he gazed down at it. Apparently now that he had chosen to remove the wrappings from his head, the droid was a little less wary of him. It beeped what he only could interpret as a sarcastic remark to their situation.

"You can say that again." Rey agreed, rising from the maintenance portion beneath the floor, pulling the grate back over it. "I suppose we should wait a little bit before going back to Jakku."

He blinked. "You want to go back? Are you crazy?"

She shot him a bold look of that insufferable annoyance she enjoyed wearing. "I can't leave Jakku. Besides, BB8 says his master is there, and we have to find him."

"His master is not on Jakku."

That seemed to startle her. "What? How do you know?"

"Because if he was, the First Order would not have been after your little droid. They more than likely have his master in their custody, or am I wrong?" His gaze slid down to BB8. The way the droid rolled back on it's bearings told him he was right. It looked about as guilty as a droid could. Slowly, he crouched down, and stared intently at the droid, one hand lightly resting on it's white and orange plating. "This droid is with the Resistance." He finally said, no doubt in his tone. It was the only explanation. What reason would the First Order have to shoot at them as the fled? It had not been him that Unkar Plutt had been staring at, it had been the droid. If the First Order had known he was there, they would have sent more men. It was simply an odd coincidence, or perhaps the guidance of the Force that found himself entwined in this little droid's problems.

"The Resistance!" The way Rey's eyes lit up brought a slight twitch of a smile to his lips at her naive innocence, the way she stared at BB8, the excitement positively radiating from her. It was hard not to be drawn in, lost in that child-like wonder.

Staring at the carbon scoring marring BB8's finish, he quietly sat back on his heels, considering. Intel, though he did not know of what, had to be this droid's mission. He was carrying something important that needed to be relayed. Which meant they had two choices. Either help the droid get in contact with one of his fellow fighters, or actually take the droid back the Resistance base itself.

Yeah. He could only imagine the various ways THAT could go wrong. None of which ended well for anyone. Most of all, him.

Unfortunately, it seemed the decision was being made for them.

His head jolted up, sensing the tingle at the back of his mind only moments before a proximity alarm began to scream in the cockpit. They exchanged a look before both bolting to the source. Rey slid into the cockpit seat, he squeezed into the co-pilot's as both of them stared upwards at the maw of the ship looming over them. "Is it the First Order?" She asked breathlessly.

"No." He responded softly, the sudden grip of disquiet that latched onto something deep within his chest sending shivers down his back.

 _Something about this ship..._

"It's a cargo ship." Another warning chirped. "They're locking a tractor beam on us..." His gaze swept the controls, fingers latching on as he began to flip switches. Rey stared at him, but he ignored her, fingers flying across the nav computer as he entered the first coordinates that sprung to his mind. His other hand pulled back on the sub-light power, grabbing hers and placing it on the light-speed throttle. "When I give the order, jump to lightspeed."

"What? How are you going to break free of that tractor beam?"

"Trust me."

He pushed out of his seat, climbing into the upper gun turret, his gaze focused above, staring at the looming ship as it's cargo doors began to open. His heart was pounding in his throat, raw and powerful, driving his adrenaline as he focused, aware that SOMETHING was there, just out of reach, driving him forward. Something unpleasant. His hands grasped the blaster controls, his eyes intense as the Force rose to do his bidding. He could feel the sap of energy from the tractor beam holding them in place, focusing to one pivotal point, right where the tractor beam's power source originated. "Now!" He hissed, power thrumming through him as he fired, the circuit exploded in a shower of sparks, the tractor beam's glow flickering before winking out around them, freeing the ship of it's grip. Instantly, there was a familiar whine of power surging to the hyperdrive, and the ship seemed to stretch into infinity for a brief moment, before the streaking light of stars enveloped them as they escaped into hyperspace.

He let out a slow breath, suddenly aware that he had been holding it in. The pressure in his chest was gone, much to his relief. The disquiet had faded, though still there in the back of his mind, whatever had been egging it on was greatly reduced. He slowly made his way back down the ladder, finding Rey waiting for him at the bottom, anxiousness covering her face. "That was lucky. You have great aim."

He responded with only a nod, sinking into the seat around the chess-table, allowing his hand to cup his head, rubbing at the temple there. He felt exhausted, though the physical sense came second to the raging thoughts that crowded his head. He had operated purely on instinct, and now his mind was struggling to make sense of it.

What had he sensed on that cargo ship? It could not have been anyone pursuing him, not in that derelict. He didn't believe he owed anyone favors or money… And it didn't explain this raw feeling of wrongness that was lodged in his mind. It might just have been coincidence…

 _That again? You know better._

A thought occurred to him, distracting his inner tirade. Cracking his eyes open again, he found Rey watching him, frowning slightly. Instead he turned his attention to the small spherical droid. "Can you scan for tracking signatures, and jam them? Knowing junkers, this thing is rigged."

BB8 beeped an affirmative, and rolled off to perform a scan. Rey slid into the booth across from him, folding her hands over the table, watching him intently. "How do you know so much about ships, tracking devices, tractor beams?"

"I've been around. Seen a thing or two." he responded mildly.

"Are you a space pirate?"

He blinked, a little taken aback, and not quite sure how to answer that. "No."

He was amused at the touch of disappointment that crossed her face. "A mercenary then?"

"Something like that."

She leaned back, bending her legs so she could wrap an arm around them, propping her chin on her hand as it rested across her knees. "I just realized, we barely know a thing about one another, and here we are, traveling in a ship to who knows where, with no idea of where we are going, or what our goal is..." She flashed him a grin. "It's kind of exciting, don't you think?"

He allowed himself a small smile, fleeting but genuine. "I suppose it is, from a certain point of view."

"But you've been all over the galaxy, haven't you?" When he didn't respond, as there was little need since his silence was as good as an admission, she continued. "...I've always wanted to travel, see the stars. But I never thought I would get the chance."

He studied her. That wistful longing in her eyes… the yearning for adventure, for a different life, it wasn't unfamiliar. He once had yearned for something as she did, only in his case, it was to understand the mysteries of the power that he had discovered lying dormant within him. The only difference between them was, he had those who realized his potential and encouraged him, whereas Rey had been left to fend for herself, no one directing her, no one guiding her towards that distant goal she imagined in her mind.

"Why stay on Jakku?" he suddenly asked, realizing he had not yet inquired. She had to have her reasons, but somehow their interaction had not been personal enough until they had shared multiple near-death experiences together.

Her gaze lowered, studying her dirt-caked nails intently, seeking to avoid meeting his gaze, lest he would judge her in a manner she did not care for. "I was waiting…. for someone to return."

Something stirred deep within him, something that felt oddly familiar. But as he paused to consider it, the feeling slipped away, lost as swiftly as it came.

"It's silly." she murmured quietly. "It's been so long. But still…" She slipped back into silence, lost in her own wistful thoughts.

He knew about waiting. Waiting to be recognized, acknowledged, seen as someone to be reckoned with. Growing up, Ben Solo had lived in the shadows of the great names of the New Republic. General Solo, Princess Organa, Jedi Skywalker… he was expected to be one of them, to grow to do great things, the son of the most powerful Jedi lineage, and of the heros that had brought down both Death Stars. It had been overwhelming, and he had struggled as any young boy would have to find his place. He had waited for his moment, longing for it, and frustrated when it never came. When he had been accepted as Luke's apprentice, he had thought that was his moment to rise to greatness. But he had been mistaken. It was what followed which had etched his name into the legends, and while once he would have stood tall, reveling in the pride of his notoriety, now he felt only deep rooted shame and bitterness.

Skywalker had been right. The dark side was tempting. _And it leads to nothing but suffering._

 _But you knew power_ , the other half of his consciousness reminded him. _You were, are, stronger than Skywalker. You know the power of the Dark Side, you wield it, you can control it._

No… he couldn't. If he had been able to control it, he would not be here, struggling with his two inner voices. His temper scared even him sometimes. It was always there, simmering, boiling, ready to be released. It had not even existed, before he knew the temptation of what the dark side could offer. Before, he had been oblivious, willing to ignore that rage churning beneath the surface, pretend it did not exist, pretend he was above it. But once he had embraced it, the raw power he had wielded had startled even himself.

Master of the Knights of Ren. Such a title demanded respect, power. Was it not worthy of pride? Was he not worthy of respect? He had mastered things that Skywalker had not even dreamt of teaching him. His raw power had surprised even himself. And yet… he felt empty. What had he accomplished, other than to destroy his own spirit with darkness? He had murdered, slaughtered, tortured, all while enjoying it, embracing it. Yet, behind it all, the whispers of his second master reminded him to keep the balance. Walk the darkness, heed the light. He was the perfect weapon, balanced in the light and the dark, tormented by each, loved by neither. His constant turmoil left him conflicted, questioning, up until the moment he had walked away.

That alone disquieted him.

His eyes focused on Rey, whose head had slumped forward, eyes resting shut, slumber having claimed her at last following their harrowing day. She was something else entirely. A burst of light in the darkness, nothing put pure raw hope and inspiration. He could not see any touch of shadows among her light… It was oddly refreshing and re-assuring to see someone so pure, so whole. In the jilted view of life that he held, few things touched him as Rey seemed to. She was above the petty struggles of dark and light, existing purely on instinct and innocence. He found it oddly strange that he suddenly found himself concerned for her well-being, he of all people! He had never been close to anyone, his parents, his uncle, no children to speak of. Always the outsider, he had distanced himself, confused by the stir of powers within him, and the lack of understanding from those around him. So why now did he feel a stir of connection with this girl? She was nothing, less than nothing, a nobody. A nameless girl from a world that thrived on anonymity. So why then did she fascinate him so?

He rose to his feet, finding it abruptly too difficult to concentrate. Not wishing to disturb her, he slipped away, retreating to the sleeping quarters where hard bunks were the only respite. Not that he minded. Used to the utilitarian simplicity of the First Orders regime, the hard metal did not bother him as he lay down. Nonetheless, he still found it difficult to empty his thoughts, despite closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind, falling back into the meditative pose that so often had helped him escape his troubles.

Instead, his thoughts were filled with hazel-green eyes, sparkling in the darkness.

* * *

Notes:

Thank you all who have left reviews and kudos! It is encouraging to know that other people like reading what I love writing so much. Feel free to keep it up!

As I have completed Act 1 in rough draft form, and started working on Act 2, I can promise you that while it seems familiar at this juncture, bear with me. The twists and subtle differences in the events that unravel will be worth it when we get to the divergence point.

Still on the lookout for Roleplayers to play out some good stories with, if you are interested feel free to reach out to me!

Next Chapter: The Pirate


	3. Chapter 3: The Pirate

"To have balance in the Force, one side must not be stronger than the other. Both must be equal, the darkness, and the light. There is a fine grey line between the two… walking too far towards the shadows tips the balance in favor of the darkness… but so too will following the light." - Maz Kanata

* * *

Chapter 3: The Pirate

He woke suddenly, aware of Rey's presence before she appeared in the doorway.

"Something's wrong."

He didn't have to inquire what it was, he knew. He could feel the shuddering vibrations coming from the hyperdrive. That was NEVER good.

Rising to his feet, he followed her back to the engine room, studying the glowing conductor coils as she opened the vent chamber. "It's that compressor Unkar Plutt installed," Rey spat, "It's put too much strain on the hyperdrive. We need to drop out early, or we'll break into itty bitty pieces."

"That would be one way to put an end to a stellar day…" he muttered more to himself than to Rey. Making his way to the cockpit, he sat himself in the pilot's chair and pulled up the local star-maps, estimating where they were going to drop out. It was a risk, pulling out of hyperspace early. More than a few ships had found themselves a permanent resident of some uninhabited world, buried deep within the core if they were lucky, scattered across the landscape if they were not. However, staying at lightspeed and risking the hyperdrive exploding would have a similar effect. Either way, they had to act.

Pulling back on the stardrive, the streaks of light shortened then dropped into pinpoints, thankfully with nothing else in close proximity within view of the cockpit. Both of them let their breaths out, not having realized they were holding them in. "Where are we? Where were we even going?" Rey asked, plopping down in the co-pilot's seat, staring at the chart that he had pulled up.

"I had programmed in coordinates to Kinyan…" he muttered. "It's a hub trade route, where we might have found Resistance sympathizers to help your droid find his way home. But I don't think we're going to make it there." He glanced at the star map, finger tracing to a point, then pausing.

 _Why here?_ _Of all the places…_

A cold shudder swept through him, and he squelched it swiftly. It wasn't like they had much choice. There were no other inhabited planets in the system. "We can make repairs on this planet…"

Rey peered at the pinpoint, squinting. "...how do you even tell what planet is what. All I see is co-ordinates."

"You learn a thing or two about reading star charts if you've been in space long enough."

Their jaunt towards the emerald green gem of a planet floating before them was not long coming. As he dipped the ship into the atmosphere, he was struck with a sudden powerful blow of nostalgia. He had been here once, long ago with his father. He remembered the trip had angered his mother, she hadn't wanted her son exposed to the 'seedy underworld' that his father still embraced whenever she wasn't looking. Ben, on the other hand, had been fascinated. He remembered meeting countless new species, trying his first Antillian fire wine, and playing sabacc with a rather drunk Rodian, and letting him win because he had been so pathetically inebriated it had been unfair to take his creds.

However, time changed many things, including his desire to return, for one specific reason.

 _Or rather, one specific person._

There was no avoiding her. He knew he would have to confront her, and he was not quite sure what to expect. She had always been an eclectic sort, and her guidance as mysterious as she was. He had the impression that it would be uncomfortable for him, as she would peel away the protective layers that he hid behind, exposing the truth to himself.

But perhaps he needed it. Perhaps that was why he had programmed in these exact co-ordinates, unconsciously knowing that the Falcon might need to make a stop on the way.

 _You are a fool if you believe anything Maz Kanata has to say will sway you, one way or another._

He frowned, not entirely convinced.

Their gentle arrival on the shore of the azure lake where Maz's castle stood was greeted with wide eyes and wonder from Rey as she craned her neck out the window. "...oh my…" she whispered, then tore down the hallway before he had even finished powering down the engines.

She beat him outside, only come to a sudden halt, staring out across the water, hands spread wide open, eyes even wider, allowing the wind to catch the loose folds of her clothing, dancing strands of hair across her face as she smiled, spinning around, staring everywhere at once. She stopped, only to present him with a secret smile, cheeks flushed bright pink and eyes sparkling. "I didn't know there was this much green in the whole galaxy…."

Ben couldn't help but stare, a strange feeling welling up within his chest as he pulled his black robes close to his face, masking it now that they were out in public once more.

 _Such innocence… like a child._

 _A flash of light, laughter, the smell of flowers on the wind…_

He shook his head, breaking the image apart, blinking as Rey's smile turned back to the open water as she knelt, dipping her hand in mouth open. She had never seen a lake, he realized. On a desert planet, abundance of water like this was unheard of. This amount of water would have made her a queen on Jakku. And here it was, simply minding it's own business, rippling in the wind.

Despite himself, he smiled.

He let her have a moment to enjoy the raw alien nature of Takodana to herself, before gently tugging her elbow, pulling her away from the shore as he wrapped the cloth about his head.

They made their way up the rough hewn stone steps of the castle, Rey's eyes roaming the fluttering colorful flags strung between the walls, unable to stop from turning around, taking everything in as if she would never see it again. He had to keep tugging at her elbow to keep her from running off to stare at something new.

"We're here to find repairs," he reminded her. "There are more than a few distractions here. The crowd is not as rough as you would find at Jakku, but watch yourself... Keep your eyes sharp." She could defend herself he knew, but there was limited room to move that staff. He found himself becoming oddly protective of her, his heart quickening at the mere idea of anyone harming her. And that warm feeling that he experienced when he gazed at her smile…

 _I'm falling for her_ , he realized with a start, shock flooding through him like ice water. For so long he had pushed away from all feelings of fondness, embracing only the raw powerful emotions of hate and anger, so much that his self-pity had swelled up in times of emptiness, consuming him with loneliness and the cold void of detachment. He had reveled in burying himself in those feelings, reveled in the isolation it gave him, separating him from the painful memories and things he had sought to flee from.

And Rey made him feel whole, warm, wanted.

 _She was ruining everything that he had been trying to accomplish._

A strange sensation tugged at him as he watched her staring upwards at the massive statue holding vigil above the doorway, a feeling he instinctively wanted to resist. It was a dangerous feeling, one that he knew led to no good. However, instead of obeying common sense and throwing his barriers up as he usually did, he followed the tug and let it fill him. He could sense her wonder, her childlike view of the world, her amazement at seeing things she had only dreamt of her entire life.

And then, he felt something familiar that echoed from a part of him he had long forgotten.

 _The sound of laughter, the smell of a sweet flower against his nose, the feel of the wind catching a ribbon and tearing it away, floating above the sea._

He shut his eyes, trying to focus on the image, trying to bring it back, but as he directed his attention to it, it faded away yet again before he could grasp it, leaving him only with the smell of flowers lingering in his nose. A strange tingle at the back of his neck forced his eyes open, and he stared at Rey, as if seeing her for the first time, as a suspicion began to wedge itself in his mind.

 _There is more to her than meets the eye. Something about her..._

He was distracted from his thoughts, when the door opened, and raucous laughter boomed out as a few rather drunk mercenaries stumbled out. Behind Rey,, BB8 beeped and backed up nervously, not liking the crowded environment within.

"Relax BB8." She said, clearly not intimidated by the myriad of alien species within all mingling about, shouting over the loud music. "Just stay close." She leaned forward, grasping the door and craning her neck to see within.

As she was about to enter, he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, causing her to glance up at him with a frown. "And you should stay close to me, Rey."

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can. I'm worried about everyone else."

The look she gave him would have withered a wookiee, causing his eyes to glitter with amusement at her indignation.

He swept past her, gaze raking the room to take in all the members in one grand swoop. He instantly identified the troublemakers, their auras were ripe with dark intentions. The mechanics and traders had an easygoing way about them; he could spot a gathering by the windows. He recognized a few bounty hunters whose reputations were enough to guess he would be correct on their names.

He didn't see Maz anywhere.

That made him feel even more uneasy.

They entered, walking among the crowd before finally picking a quiet table by the windows. A droid came to take their order, and he requested something for Rey he felt she might enjoy. Rey couldn't keep her eyes from roaming around, entranced as she slid into the booth. "I've never seen this many different species in one place. I don't even know most of them."

He supposed for one so isolated as she, it made sense to view the scene with nothing short of awe. He had been exposed to numerous species at a young age, and spoke many languages as a result. The only thing that ever phased him was to meet a species he was not familiar with, and even then was briefly fleeting. To be thrust into the wild cacophony of the vastness of the universe so quickly must be overwhelming to her. Still she was taking it in stride, though the eagerness in her eyes was all too obvious to read. He kept noticing the way her eyes glinted in the light, as if illuminated from within, bringing laughter to her face, despite the lack of a smile on her lips, her flushed cheeks as she sipped the drink.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though hidden still as he had chosen to abstain from a drink. He needed to remain vigilant, not let his senses be dulled by spirits.

She was not as plain when she smiled, beneath the dirt and the sun staining her face. She was actually quite pretty.

"I can't imagine living like this all the time. It's all so overwhelming. How do you do it?"

He blinked, his attention shifting to her eyes, suddenly aware he had been staring at her. Heat flushed to his face. He wondered if she had noticed. "What?"

"All this." she gestured about. "It's so amazing, yet you seem bored."

Bored. No he wasn't bored. Not in the least. Not when she was proving far more entertaining to watch than anything else in the room _._ He quickly averted his eyes, as if she might have overheard his private thoughts. A dark part of his mind curled in disgust at the sudden prompt of unwanted thoughts. Where had these started coming from? Why did he feel like he was a young boy who had just been caught stealing a cookie? "I suppose I am used to it. I grew up in places like this."

"Really?" She leaned forward, eagerness not helping his agitation in the slightest, as he was now forced to meet her gaze again. "Tell me."

He shifted, suddenly feeling caught suddenly unprepared. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about himself, not to her, lest of all mention his past. But those pleading green eyes of hers were so difficult to ignore. He rested a gloved hand on the table, eyes focusing on it, studying the wood grain as his thumb traced the pattern as way to avoid looking at her. "I was traveling the stars before I could speak or walk. There was never a time where I remember not visiting a new world here or there."

"How many planets have you been to?"

"I would have no way to count them." He answered truthfully. He saw the slight hitch of her breath of excitement. "Hundreds, thousands perhaps."

"So you must have seen every race in the galaxy."

He actually laughed at that, startling himself by the sudden outburst. When was the last time he had laughed? He honestly could not recall. Rey did not seem to mind, the way she flashed him a warm bright grin encouraged him to open up, despite his misgivings. "No. I doubt anyone could ever achieve that feat. There are races on distant worlds that have never had contact with outsiders yet, even to this day."

"Do you have a favorite?"

The warmth burning into his face seemed to swell brighter. If not for the cloth covering his face, he would have been quite obviously flushed before her.

 _A desert world, barren and empty, save for one figure glowing backlit by the sun._

He shook his head quickly, both answering the question accidentally, and ridding the image from his head as anger welled up within him at the unbidden thought. "No… though there have been a few I found to be visually stimulating."

"Visually stimulating?" She mocked, smirking at him, emboldened by the drink loosening her senses. "That's a rather cold description."

His fist tightened under the table slightly, discomfort rising within him. He had always found it difficult to explain his emotions, his thoughts. _And she dares mock me_. His anger simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it at bay, turning his gaze back out to the room, eyes narrowing slightly, refusing to let it free. It was not her fault that she had struck a chord.

"Hey." Her hand gripped his, and he glanced back at her, seeing one raised eyebrow, and a look of confusion on her face, aware she had said something to upset him. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." He murmured. "I am not used to… discussing myself."

She studied him, eyes keen. "You've been on your own nearly as long as I have."

He started, eyes whipping back to her, not sure what to make of that interpretation.

 _Literally, not true…. But figuratively… she has a point._

When he had broken away from his Master's tutelage, he had thought he was leading the Knights of Ren to glory, to become powerful, respected, to follow his Grandfather's legacy. But deep down, he had found nothing had truly changed… He had still been isolated, left alone in his thoughts, his anguish, to consider his actions and cope with them. But the difference then was, Snoke had not a single shred of pity for his weakness, rather he exploited it, manipulated it, made it torment him in new ways. Skywalker had at least tried to urge that part of him to withdraw from it's shell and speak to him. He had been alone, in that respect, ever since he had left the Jedi. Shame swelled within him. _Damn it._ How did she read his thoughts so easily, when she was not trained in the Force?

 _Perhaps therein lies the answer._

"I never trusted anyone with my life before." Rey was saying softly. "On Jakku, trust got you killed. It was every scavenger for themselves. I saw others team up and trust, only to be stabbed in the back. I knew to survive, I had to distance myself from everyone."

He lifted his gaze, frowning slightly as he concentrated on her words rather than the tumult in his mind. "So why did you trust me?"

She lifted her gaze from the glass in her hand, thumb idly tracing the rim, to meet his dark eyes, before they dropped, a slight flush creeping to her cheeks. "I don't know. It just felt right."

Both isolated in different ways, but the same result tied them together. She, left to fend for herself, trusting none so she could live. He, leading others, but knowing weakness would betray him, and not trusting himself to open up. Two different forms of isolation, bound tightly together through the strings of fate, the Force connecting them in mysterious ways.

And the smell of flowers still lingered, sweet on the air.

It didn't take them long to find a merchant who might have the parts they needed. A whispered word to the barkeep had stimulated interest, and before long Rey was called over to the table adjacent to theirs, where a fat man with more chins than fingers sat whispering to a Elomin female beside him.

 _Why is it always the shady fat aliens who have the advantage? Is there a club I don't know about?_

He watched them carefully, but sensed no deception from the pair, and so kept his senses keenly focused on Rey in the event of trouble. He chose to bury his interest in the Falcon's manifest, having downloaded the information onto a datapad, thanks to BB8's help, studying it to find out what other items they might be in need of repairing.

 _Han Solo would definitely have killed Unkar Plutt_.

His lips curled at the state the ship was in. How it had even gotten them off Jakku in the first place was a mystery. It should have broken apart, judging from the stress fractures in the hull, the poor patch jobs on the shield arrays, and the fact that one of the guns was completely rusted in a forward position. Speaking of the shields, they were shot to hell, too much time in the desert sand had worn polarization coil down to it's last few charges. Dirt and dents aside, most of the coolant lines and pistons were in dire need of lubrication and maintenance, and there was a troubling hole in the left cargo bay that he thought dimly resembled the indents of teeth. Not to mention, anything valuable had been scrapped for parts, leaving only the very bare bones left of the ship's interior.

They could get if flying again, but it would take a lot of credits to get her back into anything resembling the ship which had once made the Kessel run in 12 parsecs. He felt an odd tightness in his chest as he stared at the schematic in his hand.

Was he really considering doing this? Repairing his father's ship for what purpose? Certainly not to return it to him. For posterity's sake? Even less likely. For personal reasons? But what those reasons might be eluded him. In either case, he had a hard decision to make. If he remained with Rey after repairing the ship, their path would take him inevitably back to where he least wanted to be. If he left her to continue the mission on her own, she would be out of his life, and he might never find her again. Neither prospects were filling his heart with hope right now. Instead, gloom gripped him, a quiet desperation hovering in his mind as he considered the choices before him.

Motion across from him as the whisper of cloth moving into the seat distracted the darkness for a moment. Not looking up, still fixated on the image of the ship before him, he tapped the screen, enlarging the hyperdrive to get a better look at it. "Did you find what you needed?"

"I should be asking that of you."

He froze. He knew who was seated across from him long before his eyes met the inquisitive expression written on the wizened face of Maz Kanata as she watched him intently from across the table. "It has been many years, Ben Solo." Her voice was quiet with little chance of it carrying even to the table nearest to them, yet still he flinched.

He didn't ask how she had known. With Maz, it was useless. The old woman was mysterious in more ways than one, and her uncanny ability to know things was one of the reasons she had survived so long. The Force was strong with her, and though he had never seen her use it, he could feel it there just beneath the surface like a cool breeze, touching his fevered soul.

"Ben Solo is dead," he replied tersely, averting his gaze.

"Hm. I wonder."

His fist tightened beneath the table, her infuriating calm clashing with his turbulent thoughts.

"Killing off that which has shaped you is perhaps not as easy as you would think." She regarded him, noting the way his eyes narrowed, and reached out a hand, placing it over his, lowering the datapad he was gripping far too tightly to the table. "Why are you here?"

"Coincidence. We need repairs for our ship."

"Your father's ship," she corrected, smiling slightly. "I saw it outside. At first, I thought it was he who had come to visit me. He's delaying my boyfriend from spending quality time with me."

He felt a twitch of annoyance. Half the time he'd not been able to tell if she was being serious, or simply having fun at everyone's expense. She hadn't changed one bit. "I haven't seen him. Or Chewie." he added as the sudden tilt of her head. "I don't know where they are."

"Pity. I like that wookiee." Maz folded her hands, smiling at him with that secretive way she had about her.

If he hadn't known Chewbacca was happily life-bound to his mate back on Kashyyyk, he would have felt ill. "What do you want Maz."

"You think it's easy to get an audience with the mighty Kylo Ren?" she asked, huffing slightly. At his sharp look towards the rest of the room, she waved a hand. "Be at ease, my boy. No one can hear us. And who would expect such a notorious villain here? I have your wanted poster on my wall… right next to your father's." However, the teasing smile on her face was only on the surface. Her tone was needled with something stronger, darker, more direct to his soul. "You should relax. Here, have a drink." She shoved an amber liquid towards him, some spilling out onto the table. He distractedly wondered if the glass had been there the whole time. He mutely took it, but did not move to sip it. "Drink." She insisted. "A man sitting at a bar without a drink is the most suspicious man in the room."

Reluctantly, he agreed she had a point and pulled the cloth down from his face, making sure to tug his hood closer, and took a quick sip. The liquid was like fire down his throat, and he promptly coughed, catching his mouth with a fist to keep from spewing it back at Maz.

She promptly laughed, eyes glinting behind her goggles with an almost puckish charm. "See. It will put some color back in that pale skin of yours. Honestly, you look quite ill." He shot her a sullen look, but took another sip. He hated to admit it, but she was right. He did feel less confined as the liquid simmered in his gut, tearing apart the layers of protection and wariness that he kept erected about himself like a shield.

"Now…" Maz continued, her smile fading as the tone of her voice lowered in sync. "Why are you here."

"I told you…."

"No. You said what brought you here. But that is not why you are here."

His gaze focused on the drink in his hand, watching the imperfections of the surface mingle with the glass, rippling and distorting a misshapen reflection of his face.

Deep down, he knew. Perhaps he had always known. Perhaps that was why his hand had programmed the coordinates without a second thought, perhaps he had known the failing hyperdrive would have dropped them off conveniently in this system, perhaps that was why he had broken away from the cargo ship.

Yet again the Force had intervened, guiding him down a path he desperately wanted to divert from, without an avenue of escape. Somehow, he knew his silence was confirmation of the answer she already knew.

"You need to go home, Ben."

His grip tightened on the glass.

"You have been running away from everything for too long. Your family, your past, yourself… You must stop running and face it."

He felt a hard lump forming in his throat, unusual and unwelcome as he took another quick swig, aware his eyes had taken on a blurred unfocused look, staring at nothing in particular. "I can't go back."

"Why not?"

"I can't…."

"You are afraid of facing the ones whom you have hurt the most…." Maz murmured. "But that is nothing compared to the pain you will suffer at your own hands if you continue to torment yourself like this."

"They won't want me."

"They are your family. They will want you. They have never stopped hoping you will one day return to them. They love you, they will forgive you."

"Even after everything I've done?" He asked bitterly. "I murdered, tortured, destroyed in the name of their enemy. I am the very face of the enemy itself."

"You are their son."

He closed his eyes. The lump had grown painful, and he found it difficult to speak. _I am too weak._

"I think perhaps you underestimate yourself." Maz's kind voice soothed the thrum of fear in his heart, reading the unspoken thoughts that lingered in his mind. "You chose to leave on your own. That took more strength than the power of the darkness combined. To stand up for your own heart, to turn away…. That is a trial even your Grandfather did not pass until his very last moments."

He slowly lifted his gaze, staring at her, slightly derailed by that realisation. "It did not feel like strength... " He said slowly. "It felt like I was being torn apart… it still feels like that."

"And it will continue to be as such, until you face the source of your suffering." Maz said firmly. "You cannot continue with two halves of yourself at war, Ben. The battle between the light and the dark… it is as old as time. The Jedi, the Sith… neither of them understand the true heart of the struggle, each far too blinded to seek what is truly important."

He stared at her, confusion etched on his brow. "What?"

"Balance." That one word echoed in his mind, a thrill of something fluttering in his chest as she spoke the word, as if it held enormous power in merely speaking it. "The balance of the Force is the key to everything, Ben, to our very existence, to knitting the universe together."

"The Jedi seek balance…." He muttered, not sure where she was going with this.

But to his surprise, Maz slowly shook her head. "The Jedi may think they seek balance, but in truth their own ideals blind them to the truth. They fail to see beyond the limitations of what their culture and history has taught them. When they say they seek balance in the Force, they mean instead they seek harmony. Balance and Harmony are two completely different things, Ben."

He wasn't sure if it was the drink dulling his senses, or if what Maz was saying called into question everything he knew and was, but his confusion was growing, as was the sense of disquiet within him. "I don't understand."

Maz tightened her grip on his hand ever so slightly, her eyes keen as she peered up at him. "To have balance in the Force, one side must not be stronger than the other. Both must be equal, the darkness, and the light. There is a fine grey line between the two… walking too far towards the shadows tips the balance in favor of the darkness… but so too will following the light."

She leaned back, releasing his hand. "I have lived for over a thousand years. When I was a young girl, the Jedi kept order in the galaxy, claiming to do so for the sake of balance, for harmony. But so powerful were the Jedi, the darkness was nowhere to be seen but in the shadows. And then, when the time was right, the darkness overwhelmed the light, and the balance was tipped. The galaxy fell into chaos, war, discord. The harmony, the peace that the Jedi had fought for vanished in favor of the opposing side."

She reached into her vest pocket, and pulled something out, taking his hand from the table and placing the item within it. It was a square coin of undefinable make, foreign writing on it's surface, a small hole in the center that was just large enough to fit a finger through it. One side was cast in metal of a natural pitch so dark, it seemed to absorb the fire from the lamps around them. Carefully, he maneuvered the coin to his fingertips, and then turned it over. The opposing side was so bright, it seemed to reflect the very light that had been absorbed from it's darker half.

"Like a coin, you cannot have one side without the other. Neither side can cross over to the other, they are opposites and cannot be separated. But turn the coin on it's side…" She lifted it from his fingers and placed it side up on the table. It remained standing, finely balanced on it's end, dark on the left, light on the right. "What do you see?"

"Balance." He murmured. "A fine line between the two."

"Balance." She agreed. "I am no Jedi, but yet I naturally veer towards the light. It is who I am, and it has taken me hundreds of years to find the harmony I seek. My struggle is so much easier than yours." Her eyes were kind, understanding. "You have fought so hard to belong, Ben… first the light, then the dark… perhaps what you seek, is somewhere in between."

Between the light and dark. Gray. Is it possible to walk such a line?

The pull of the dark, the drive of the light, each so strong, ever at war struggling to pull him in one direction or the other. It was the finest point of them all, a tipping scale that could veer dramatically in either direction with just the smallest breath of air.

A cold breeze swept past him, and the coin fell face forward, dark side exposed.

Off to his right, a bright burst of laughter broken his train of thought, and he glanced up, seeing Rey throw a grin back at him, her face rosy, cheeks flushed, obviously enjoying herself. She gave him a thumbs up, to which the faintest smile flickered across his face, a warmth spreading from within the hollow confines of his soul, dimming the weary thoughts that had occupied his mind.

Maz clearly was intrigued. "Who's the girl?" she asked conspiringly, her gaze fixated on Rey with interest.

As if summoned by unspoken command, Rey rose and walked back over to the table, looking curiously at Maz as she grabbed a spare chair and pulled it close, sitting in it backwards, the back serving as a prop for her arms that she folded together atop the wooden frame. "I found some parts for the right price. And he's willing to help us with anything else we need repaired, for a good discount." She tilted her head ever so slightly, eyes shifting from Maz, back to him.

Understanding the silent request, he lifted his hand slightly in way of introduction. "Maz Kanata, Rey. Maz owns this place."

"I own the planet." she clarified, and it was no boast. "Welcome, dear child." offering her hand, she warmly clasped Rey's between both of her own, smiling up at her. "So good of you to bring this hooligan back to visit his old friend."

"Oh you know each other?" Rey asked, obviously curious.

"I used to change his diapers." Maz said matter-of-fact, a mischievous smirk on her face as she looked at the sputtering visage of the dark-clad man across from her. "He was trouble, even then. He hasn't changed, he's still trouble, just like his father."

Glowering at her, he downed the remainder of his drink and let out a heavy sigh. He shoved the coin back at her across the table, irritated. The last thing he needed now was to be mocked, never mind that she actually was telling the truth.

"Keep it." Maz said gently, sliding the coin back across. "As a reminder of what you must decide for yourself." Rising to her feet, she inclined her head slightly, eyes lingering on Rey just a little bit longer. "If you excuse me. I have a bar to run. Try to keep him out of trouble, my dear."

Rey flashed a smile at Maz before the wizened woman walked off. She glanced back at him, eyes curious. "Did she really?"

"What?" he asked, perhaps a bit too shortly than he should have.

"Change your…. diapers." the last word was said with a barely contained hint of laughter as she struggled to keep a straight face.

"Probably." he muttered, burying his face in his hand. "I've never known Maz to lie."

Rey just grinned wider, much to his embarrassment. "Sorry." She didn't look the least bit sorry. "Anyway, we can start working on the repairs tonight, he's got to go back to his ship and see if he can find the backup power converter. Said he'd drop it off later and help us install it. Once it's in, we can leave." Her gaze shifted down to BB8, prodding the droid lightly with her foot.

"Speaking of which, where are we going? How do we get you home?" The droid beeped softly, not that he had a volume control to speak of. "What?" Rey's gaze met his, then fell back to the droid. "You can trust him. I do. He's going to help us get you back to your people."

That tight feeling was back in his chest again.

"Oh don't be ridiculous." Rey had started arguing with the droid. "Of course he wants to help us. He's here isn't he? He didn't have to help you escape, but he did."

He was increasingly aware of BB8's attention focused on him, and realized the droid had overheard everything that had passed between himself and Maz. He fixed his eyes on the empty glass on the table, tuning out the argument as his own thoughts turned to what Maz had said.

Balance. Could he make it work, to walk the balance between the light and the dark? It made so much sense, fit with every struggle he had been through. But would he be able to resist the temptation, to either side? His fingers idly turned the coin over in his hands, watching it's facets catch and reflect the light and shadows. Somehow, he got the impression that trying to walk the balance would be even harder than falling in either direction. But if he could make it work... If he could come to that harmony where he found peace with both Kylo Ren and Ben Solo….

A shiver swept down his back, as the leering visage of Snoke sprung to his mind. The words that he had left him with during their last conversation echoing in his mind.

 _You are nearly ready to complete your training… destroy the boy, become the man. Walk the lines of the Force, let them guide you to your rightful place._

But what was his rightful place?

"I'm not coming with you." The decision was so sudden, he hadn't even realized that he'd made his choice until those words left his lips.

"What?" Rey broke off sharply from her discussion with BB8, startled. "What are you talking about? Of course you're coming."

He couldn't meet her eyes. He knew what he would see. Accusation, hurt, betrayal. "No. I'm not. You will have to take BB8 to the Resistance alone. I will help you repair the ship… but after that, I will find another way off Takodana. You must continue on your own."

"Ren…" the hurt in her voice was excruciating. "Why?"

"I don't belong with the Resistance." He said softly, fist gripping tightly around the coin. "It's… complicated."

"I can't do this by myself." Rey said, jaw setting stubbornly in that way he found irresistible in most cases. "I need your help. Please don't leave me…." Her hand reached out and rested over his, feather-light touch suddenly igniting into a jolt of electric shock.

 _Please… don't leave me!_

 _The voice was filled with tears, begging, crying, screaming as a hand reached outstretched, grasping into the empty air, desperate to cling to that which was out of reach. A girl, barely older than he had been when Master Luke had taken him in as a pupil was running, trying to keep up, growing smaller by the second. In her hand, a bouquet of flowers, torn by the sudden jolt of wind from the ship taking off before her, the sweet scent lingering in his nose, stinging his eyes. Green eyes, so filled with desperation, longing…._

He jolted back from her touch as if he had been shocked, a cold chill gripping his heart as if he had suddenly been dunked in ice water.

 _Rey. That girl was Rey!_

In one terrifying rush, he knew.

He didn't even think. He was on his feet, shoving past her as that vice-like grip on his heart tightened to maddening proportions.

The wavering echoes of betrayal followed him all the way out the door.

* * *

Notes:

Thank you again for reading, reviewing and kudoing! Things are about to get interesting. Now comes the point where the cannon starts to diverge somewhat drastically. After all, Kylo Ren can't very well kidnap Rey, now can he? (well...)

And as always, if you are curious about roleplaying Kylo / Rey or even some OC's hit me up!

Next Chapter: The Force


	4. Chapter 4: The Force

Secrets kept, secrets revealed, and the inevitable awkwardness of feigning ignorance. The question is, how long can he keep it up?

* * *

Chapter 4: The Force

He didn't think about where he was going. He just ran.

His rage that had so long simmered beneath the surface, constrained by an unnatural barrier of his own making, broke at long last, whipping out in furious ribbons of energy, tearing into the timber around him, splintering branches and stripping the bark from the trunks. Furious footsteps carried him far beyond the confines of the castle, out into the lush forest, in an attempt to escape the tumult of emotions that raged around him. But it only gave them fuel, for beyond the reach of anyone, that Kylo Ren released his anguish with a raw howl of fury, the thunderous boom of the Force exploding around him leaving an unnatural clearing as it mowed down grass, flattened flowers and splintered trees. Lost in his rage, the blood-red saber, wild with energy sprang to his hand, lashing out viciously as boulder after boulder met with disastrous end, trees were felled in one swift strike, and his clothes were littered with pine needles as they rained down around him softly like snow.

 _Why? Why had he forgotten who she was? That HE of all people had been tied to her fate? Why would he even BE tied to her?_

A vicious snarl left his throat, and a tree split down the center, parting before him as his saber lashed into the wood, sparks and fire blinding him. Violent intense anger enveloped him, wrapping him in the comfortable blanket he had dwelled under, the one that permitted him no regret, allowed him to freely reign over everything he was, embracing the darkness that encompassed his soul.

 _This is some sick cosmic joke… The Force is mocking me, making a fool of me! I am the master of my own fate!_

He threw his head towards the sky, screaming in rage, as if it would answer him, challenge him in a fight he could finally win.

He was met with silence.

He did not know how long his tantrum lasted. But when it was over, he was drenched in sweat, standing there heaving for breath, suddenly feeling drained, empty, exhausted. It was unnaturally still, no bird dared cry out after the raw display of fury, every creature within range having long since fled. If anyone had seen his display of anguish and rage, they dared not approach, long since leaving him to demolish the forest around him.

He felt suddenly utterly and completely alone.

A sudden swell of weakness clutched him, and he felt his legs give way. Saber dropping to the ground, discharging with a hiss, he sunk to his knees and gave in to the tears that choked his throat and clouded his eyes.

In that moment, kneeling, vulnerable in the forest, he was Kylo Ren no longer.

Ben Solo knelt there, confused and alone, the tormented knowledge of the memories he had suppressed overfilling him with anguish.

 _Rey_ …

He could hear her name whispered on the wind, like the pure essence she had been named for, light incarnate itself. She had no idea. None. She, who had been abandoned by her family, or so she thought. She who knew nothing of the Force, but lived only by her instincts. She who had spent her entire life searching for answers as to who she was.

And he had all those answers.

The worst part was… he didn't want them.

He didn't know what had hidden the memories from his grasp. But nonetheless, the floodgates had been opened, and he now know the truth. Although, something told him even what he knew was incomplete. His memories were jumbled, mixed up, distorted in a way that spoke of the Force.

But one thing was clear.

He had been the one who left her on Jakku.

Moisture dripped from his nose, and he opened his eyes, seeing the dirt speckled with dark blotches from the tears making their way to the ground.

How could he not have known who she was? How could he have forgotten? This whole time they had been together, the only clue being the mysterious images that still danced around his mind. The child holding the flowers up to him, bright smile, a grass-filled hilltop spread out in every direction, bright sunshine kissing her cheeks rosy. The sound of her laughter as she ran ahead of him on a path by a lake. The warm embrace as she flung herself at him, nearly causing him to topple over.

He sat back on his heels, tilting his face towards the sky. Somewhere in his fit of rage, he had lost the cloth covering his face, and his black curls were plastered to his face, sweat and tears mingled on his cheeks.

"Why?" he asked, of no one in particular. "Why are you doing this to me?"

One fist tightened in the dirt, clutching tightly for anything to crush, as if it would alleviate his torment. The other lay slack on his knee, shaking slightly from its wild display of power.

The only answer he received was the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

He sat there, head bowed, as his mind turned over the knowledge it had unleashed upon him, and he realized with a hollow emptiness, that this meant everything would change. Rey, himself, everything… There was no way he could simply walk away from this. _From her._ His fate and hers were tied closely together, before she was ever old enough to question it.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. This is what the Force had been guiding him to do, from the very moment they had re-united on Jakku.

 _I know what I must do._

There was only one answer. Only one person who had more answers than he did.

And that name echoed in the recesses of his mind, as if whispering to him, calling to him…

 _Telling him to return._

But the last thing he wanted to do was face his past. It was far easier to run from it.

 _A coward… like your father._

This whole year, it felt like a blur to him in that moment. Had this been his fate the moment he turned away from Snoke? Was this the cause of it all? He failed to see the connection, but something deep down felt off, felt wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wishing to re-live that particular event, the horror and fear in his soul intensifying as questions spun about his mind.

Was he ever in control? Or was he just a puppet from the very beginning? Desperation grasped at him, thick with confusion.

He knew what he had to do. But he didn't know if he had the strength in which to do it.

A ripple in the Force caused him to lift his head, frowning, red-rimmed eyes turning to stare at the distant castle behind him. For a moment, he wasn't sure what had dragged him out of his own self-destruction. The building looked peaceful, flags waving cheerily in the stiff breeze.

 _There are no birds._

A sudden wash of cold swept over him, and he surged to his feet, breath catching sharply as he felt a shockwave slam into his mind. It was as if the world had paused it's slow lazy rotation, and the entire cycle of life had come to a screeching halt for just one moment.

 _Rey!_

Something was wrong. He was feeling HER emotions.

He didn't hesitate to ponder the reason why, instead he snatched his saber and summoned his power, putting force-enhanced speed behind his paces as he dashed through the forest. The cold grasp on his heart blossomed into something stronger the closer he got.

 _Fear._ Rey was blinded by terror, trying to lash out at something beyond her power to comprehend.

The world rushed by at a blur, reaching the castle and breaking free of the tree-line just in time for the whole world to upend in front of him as a shrill screech of engines he knew all too well filled his senses.

An explosion of laser fire shatter into the earth beside him, screams of panic filling his ears as TIE fighters came roaring overhead, a full squadron descended, cannons blazing.

 _They found me._

 _No…_ he realized, staring. _They found the droid._

The droid was with Rey!

Surging forward, he tore through the open doors, zeroing in on the tight ball of fear that was Rey somewhere below him. He could feel her fear, thick and tangible in the air, hovering just out of reach. His feet found their way down the stone steps, tearing down into the storage corridor below, as another smattering of TIE laser cannons shook the castle, dangerously close as debris and sand rained down around him.

Then, he skidded to a stop, breath catching sharply.

Maz was standing before Rey, in her hand held something she was presenting with reference to an ashen face with wide startled green eyes. Neither saw him enter. Nor did he truly register the scene, as his attention was distracted by something far more enthralling.

Rey was _glowing._

Perhaps glowing was the wrong word, he thought distantly, wonder and awe sinking in and stealing the panic from his hurried flight here.

 _Radiating._ That was a far better word.

He could actually _see_ the Force swirling around her, bright colors of blue, green and white dancing around her like flames. He had seen Force auras before. Both his master's Force auras were potent when they expended themselves, befitting to their mastery of the power to which they so firmly entwined their fate.

But Rey… Rey was something else entirely.

He had never before seen such power. It felt like staring into the sun, as he felt the heat of it pulling at him, stealing his own will and binding it to the bright speck of light in the darkness.

 _She has awakened._

Before he could say anything to disturb the two of them, the ground shook violently, and the whole corridor erupted in stone and dirt, a blast from above striking just the right weak point, which began to bring the entire floor above down on their heads.

He didn't hesitate.

His hand shot out fueled by pure instinct, power rippling from him as he extended his emotions, bearing the weight of the ceiling, preventing it from collapsing. The dust settled slightly, and he saw Maz protectively grasping Rey's head, the girl limp on the floor, rubble scattered about her. Their eyes met, and he sensed Maz's acknowledgement of gratitude as he rushed forward, concentration creasing his brow as he kept his mind focused on supporting the unstable ceiling while he knelt down to inspect Rey.

"It proved too much for her." Maz murmured, hand gently stroking the unconscious girl's' hair out of her pale face. "But she will be fine." Taking a step back to allow him to scoop her up into his arms, he met Maz's eyes. "Go. Escape while you can."

"What of you?" he asked, gently cradling Rey's head against his shoulder, holding her close.

Maz just smiled at him. "Don't worry about me. I've been in worse scrapes than this. I have a feeling we will meet again." And then, she lifted her hand, the cylindrical object shining in the dim light. "Take this with you."

He stared, breath trapped in his throat.

He knew what that was.

He knew who it had belonged to.

The last thing he wanted to do was take it.

Maz continued to watch him, her eyes holding his. "Remember you have a choice on your path, Ben. It is up to you which direction you walk. Only you can decide."

Another jolt shook the ground, and he felt his focus waver, dust and rock shaking his concentration, forcing him to renew his hold on the Force. He felt the heavy weight of the saber as Maz lifted her hand to open his from where it supported Rey's legs, pressing the lightsaber into his hand. He stared at it blankly, as that sensation of a noose tightening around his neck increased. Taking a deep breath, he held her eyes. "What did you tell her?"

"Only what I had to." Maz replied quietly. "Fear not, Ben Solo. She only knows that she knows nothing." Her eyes softened, sadness in them as she regarded him. "I leave it to you to break it to her just whose saber that is…. I don't envy you, young man." A flash of mischief danced across her wizened face. "Now go!" She urged.

He needed no more urging. Turning, he allowed Maz to go before him, then followed swiftly. Once out of the dark hall, he permitted the rocks to fall to the earth behind them, burying the basement, and the dark memories that lingered within.

His eyes swept the battlefield as he crouched amidst the rubble, watching the last of Maz's patrons flee towards their own ships, screams filling the air as laser fire rained down on them.

"...sorry about your castle." He growled to Maz. It truly was a waste. It had been a decent place.

"It won't be the first one I've lost, nor the last." Maz replied grimly. "The hazard of having things people want, and aren't afraid to take by force."

He honestly had nothing to add to that. He glanced at Maz, who ushered him with a hand, before vanishing through the rubble. She would be fine, as she said she had been through worse before. She was a survivor. He had little doubt he would encounter her again, one day. But now was not the time to reflect.

"BB8, get to the ship." The little droid beeped in alarm at him. "I don't have time to argue, do it, or you get left here for the Order to pick you up."

Smartly, the little droid quickly rolled towards the Falcon.

Unfortunately, Ben's tall figure was going to draw more attention, especially carrying Rey in his arms.

He kept his head low, long strides allowing for quick travel across the rubble-strewn battlefield. Nonetheless, he heard shouts as ground troops began to move in behind him, spotting the man in black making for the notorious smuggling ship parked on the lakeshore. He forced his legs to move faster, deftly avoiding a blast aimed for his head as he tore up the ramp. A deft slam of his elbow on the control mechanism rose the ramp slowly behind them. He could hear the sharp bangs and hiss of carbon impacting the hull, and grimaced. If they didn't get moving soon, they wouldn't be going anywhere.

The problem was, they still had a broken hyperdrive to repair, and no time to do it in.

He gently knelt down by the booth in the central room of the Falcon, sitting Rey upright on the seat, and touching her cheek, shaking her slightly as he peered up urgently at her pale face. "Rey. Wake up." he urged softly, squeezing her hand as another blast hit the ship, rocking it violently. They were getting closer. "Rey!" Her eyelids twitched, but she did not wake. Gritting his teeth, he pulled one of the leather gloves off of his hand, tossing it on the table, and cupped it to her cheek, thumb gently tracing her cheekbone, his hand cold against her warm skin. "Rey, wake up." he whispered, voice tinged with a gentle prodding of the Force, urging her to hear him. "I need your help."

Her head stirred, and eyes slowly opened, flickering uncertainly, unfocused for a moment before she blinked and met his with a start. "Ren?" she asked, confusion written on her face. "What…"

"No time for that." He pressed. "I need you to fix the hyperdrive. As quickly as you can. As soon as we're out of orbit we need to be able to flee quickly. We went over what has to be done, you can apply the fix quickly, I know it."

"...okay." she breathed, the memories of what she had experienced obviously still haunting her from the way she looked at him, eyes wide with desperation. "What are you going to do?"

"I will hold them off until you can start the engines." He replied, standing slowly, his face sobering. He was distinctly aware he was still tightly gripping his uncles lightsaber, and as he rose, Rey's gaze instantly lowered to it, freezing as she saw it. "Go!" he urged, turning and striding back towards the door, not giving her another chance to protest. His heavy boots echoed loudly in the corridor, stride growing strong with purpose, as his other hand reached into his robes, pulling out his own cross-hilt saber. Jamming the base of the saber against the door controls, the ramp slowly lowered, and he strode out, the Force wrapping around him as it swelled to his command, cloaking him in it's strength.

The blaster fire and TIE cross-fire littered the landscape, troopers rushing over rubble, coming directly for the ship whose engines had just started their high-pitched whine as Rey began to warm up the sublight drive. He was not sure how long he could hold them off, but he was not about to let the New Order take him, Rey or the droid. His eyes narrowed, and the snap-hiss of energy exploding wildly outwards filled the air as his saber ignited.

Instantly every single trooper on the battlefield froze in place.

They may not have known who the black-clad man was before, but there was little doubt they knew now.

Hair whipping in the wind, he planted his feet firmly on either side of the Falcon's metal ramp, and stood his ground, his dark eyes narrow, the Force wrapping around him in thick undulating waves of power that struck terror into all standing before him.

For a moment the troopers did not move, and he knew they were asking for instructions, and thinking to themselves if they really felt like dying today. He could sense their fear, and he presented his own bold confidence, touching their minds with his own, egging that fear on, silently commanding them to turn back and leave. Some did, stumbling backwards, frantically backpedaling. But more than a few did not, and after a moment's hesitation, the first of them opened fire at him.

His saber flashed, his right hand deftly deflecting the beams back at them making them dodge or fall back as they were struck. But as he fought, more began to spill over the ridge, backup arriving and starting to flood towards the ship. Still gripping his uncles' lightsaber in his left hand, he lifted it, fingers semi-outstretched, the Force rippling outwards as his eyes focused on the rock column laying on the ground, lifting it slowly into the air, sweat beading on his forehead, before launching it at the oncoming wave of troopers. It helped make a dent, but his saber was flashing faster and faster, trying to keep up with the oncoming bolts. One hissed by his head, and he felt a scorch of heat by his cheek as he barely moved in time, a line of welts blossoming on his cheek at the close call. With a growl, he lashed out, the saber slashing down as if to strike, though it met empty air, instead a wave of the Force slammed into the nearest row of troopers, knocking them on their backs.

He cried out in sudden pain, as a blaster shot slammed into his lower leg, but he did not let his stance waver, pushing past the pain, letting it fuel his rage further. The world became a haze of red before him, partly because of the blur of his saber moving before him like a shield, and partly because a dribble of blood was working it's way down his forehead. He was quickly finding himself overwhelmed, not making a dent in the oncoming troopers no matter how fast his reflexes reacted, and without thinking, the second saber in his left hand powered to life, joining the first in a wild frenzy of blue and red light before him.

He was lost in the dance, giving in to his reactions, his mind shut down, feeling the Force flow through him like a conduit.

His training, all of his training, combined together to make him an ultimate force to be reckoned with, a flurry of movement. Though he was not winning against the tide, he kept them from advancing, and that was enough.

A lurch of the ship nearly sent him tumbling, and he managed to catch the strut of the door assembly just in time as the ground tilted beneath his feet. The distraction proved dangerous, however, as his guard dropped, and a bolt of laser fire slammed into his left shoulder, searing flesh and sending him falling backwards onto the ramp. Somehow, he managed to keep from rolling off the ramp as the whole ship began to tilt, focusing his strength and pulling himself up into the entryway, rolling to the side and slamming his boot down on the door assembly to shut it. As the mechanism closed and he felt the cool metal of the Falcon's deck touch his cheek, he let out a slow sigh, feeling all that had fueled his emotions drain out of him, sapping the strength from his arms, from his mind, until the ship and it's loud whine of the engines fell away around him, replaced by the blissful embrace of unconsciousness.

He woke to something wet and cool touching his forehead. Distant memories of a soft song in his ear, his mother's smile as he woke lazily floated about in his mind, settling like a comforting blanket across his mind, soothing and welcoming. He must have made a sound, or smiled, for the touch paused, and a quiet voice spoke in his ear.

"...Ren?"

His eyes reluctantly opened, brief disorientation gripping him as the blurred streak of colors above him slowly coalesced into the familiar worried face of Rey. She had a damp cloth touching his forehead, leaning over him, her green eyes etched with concern, but were touched with relief as he met her gaze. There was a calm quiet about her, and his mind grasped at that to mean they had gotten away intact. The distinct hum of the hyperdrive operating confirmed that theory.

He shut his eyes again, as the events prior to his loss of consciousness came vividly back into his mind.

A dull ache of pain all over, especially the wounds he'd received, reminded him he was very much not dead.

He supposed that was a good thing.

Opening his eyes again, he started to push himself upright, and was promptly shoved back down, an indignant Rey glaring at him. "You've lost some blood. You're staying down for a little bit… I don't need you passing out again."

He really didn't try to argue. She had a point. He still felt woozy, and his limbs felt as if they had been encased in carbonite, heavy and unresponsive. One brief glance told him he was resting in one of the Falcon's bunks, though his boots were hanging off the end, since it was too short for his height.

 _How did Chewie ever manage_ , he wondered distractedly. The wookiee was taller than he was, and would have been exceptionally cramped.

"How long was I out?" He asked, his words coming out slowly, throat feeling like cotton.

"Just an hour." Rey responded, watching him. "I thought you were dead when I found you…." She bit her lip, and he was suddenly aware her eyes were glittering with the start of tears trying to form. "Don't DO that to me again." She promptly punched him on his good shoulder.

He smiled at that, a ghostly hollow smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Sorry."

She sighed, and then reached over and pulled a bacta mesh out of a first aid kit she had found on board, lightly pressing it to his forehead, sealing the wound. It stung for a moment, but then cool refreshing numbness took the ache away. He was then suddenly aware that she had clearly been working on his injuries for some time. His right pant leg was rolled up, part of it having been cut to clear way to access the wound, his leg already patched up. But even more interesting, was the fact she had removed his cloak, and his shirt, baring his chest so she could access the ugly blaster mark that scored his left shoulder. It had been cleaned, but she was still working on applying the bacta gel to the front. He held still as she worked, letting her concentrate as she wiped away the blood, dabbing at the wound with disinfectant, before starting to smear the soothing gel over the injury. He noticed how her eyes would occasionally drift, staring at the corded knots of scars crossing his chest and arms, old lightsaber and blaster injuries from his training and battles. She said nothing, but he felt a strange warmth flood through him watching her cheeks flare with color when he noticed her staring. Once she finished with his shoulder, she let him sit up, though slowly, so she could work on the opposite side of his shoulder. He sat there, hunched slightly as she worked, enjoying the silence for once. He knew the uncomfortable questions would come, but for now he was satisfied simply sitting.

When she finished at last, she handed him his shirt, and again he resisted the urge to smile as she kept her eyes averted. Carefully he pulled it on then accepted the canteen of water she offered him, drinking deeply, feeling alertness start to return. His whole body still felt drained. It had been a long time since he had surrendered his body to the Force in such a raw manner, and he was paying for it. But thinking back at just what he had accomplished, he felt a swell of pride at himself.

 _When was the last time I had a reason to embrace my power to fight? Other than my own desire for power, or losing myself to anger?_

Jedi or Sith code be damned, using his power, ALL his power gave him a sense of deep satisfaction.

 _Balance. Dark and light united as one. Perhaps this is what Maz meant._

"Where are we going?" He finally thought to ask, realizing he had no idea what had happened. He could assume they were safely in hyperspace, from the whine of the engines.

"The Ileenium system." she replied. "BB8 set us on a course to his base. It will take us a few days to get there, I'm not risking pushing the hyperdrive too hard, so set it on the lowest speed."

That name did nothing for him, no memories sprung to mind. But if it was the Resistance base, it made sense, it was likely quiet for a reason. _Several days… in which to prepare myself for the inevitable._ He briefly wondered which was more likely, to be shot on sight, or imprisoned and executed once they found out who he was and that he had infiltrated their base of operations.

Neither was appealing.

He rose to his feet, cautiously keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself, before turning to the table nearby where his cloak lay draped, only to pause as he saw the sleek silver and black cylindrical shape of Luke Skywalker's lightsaber resting on top of his robes.

He could sense Rey's increased agitation behind him as he regarded the weapon. "I'm not touching that." She said firmly, her fear increasing like a thick fog around her. "Never again."

His gaze shifted to her, watching the tension dancing across her face, the raw aura of fear that huddled around her. Whatever she had experienced, it had been powerful enough to disturb him in his tantrum, drawing him back to her. The Force hung about her thick now, like a comforting blanket, ever present, but invisible. He wasn't sure how much connection she could feel, but he certainly could sense it.

 _Such an awakening cannot be held secret for long. Why hasn't Snoke touched my mind and felt it?_ He frowned, briefly distracted by the realization he had not felt his master's presence in his mind for a long while, and though he had been expert at keeping his mental barriers up, he was no match for Snoke by a long shot.

He couldn't help but feel an ominous sense settle in his mind.

Rey was already turning her back to him and taking a step back toward the door, her eyes quickly averting away from the lightsaber, not noticing his distraction. "I want nothing to do with that thing. After this is done, I'm going back to Jakku. I've already been away too long."

"Rey…" his voice was quiet, but firm. She stopped dead in her tracks, not looking back, and he had the sense she was dreading his words in some way. "...you realize the truth, don't you?"

He saw her jaw clench, and she shot him a suddenly tear-filled stare. In that moment he knew that she knew the truth very well.

No one was coming back for her… or so she thought.

The terrible part of the whole thing, was that someone already had.

He was left alone, thoughts drifting along the paths he could see extending before him like fingers. Rey was so much more than a scavenger now, and she knew it though did not wish to accept it. Perhaps deep down she was aware that everything had changed, but on the surface she sought to deny it, as anyone would. Nonetheless, he knew this chain of events had started them down a path that forced the two of them to intertwine closely. He could not abandon her now, not when he knew all the answers to the questions she had so long sought, not when he knew without him she would never find them.

His eyes returned to the old Jedi's saber, studying it's innocuous presence. He remembered using it's power, his left hand slowly clenching still gloved, sore from gripping the weapon so fiercely, but somehow he was uncertain he wanted to pick it up now. Such items were imbued with a power of their own, the essence of the user imprinted upon them. Perhaps that was what had driven him so, awakened his own desires to keep Rey safe, the essence of the Jedi master urging him to take up his weapon, use it to protect her.

Instinctively, his hand reached into his robes for his own saber, and came up empty. A brief flash of panic gripped him, as he became dimly aware that he recalled losing his grip on his saber, watching it tumble back to the ground as they had taken off in the Falcon.

A dose of horror and relief flooded him all at once. Was he free of it? Was the last shadow of Kylo Ren finally beaten back into the darkness, abandoned by the man who had embraced him? He felt a small sliver of hope amidst the horror, wondering if maybe that wasn't what he wanted after all...

But then, he felt a heavy weight in the sleeve of his robe. It must have caught there, he realized feeling a sudden strange sense of relief, but also a disquieted sense of regret, as he pulled it free holding it in his hand, staring at the worn scored surface of the metal, it's weight familiar and comforting but also a reminder that who he was could not be abandoned so easily. He carefully tucked it back in his robes, attaching it to his belt, and after a moment's hesitation, did the same to his uncle's saber, clipping it to his belt opposite to his own. He felt it somewhat sacrilegious to leave it lying about as if it were any ordinary weapon. Despite his reluctance to take it for himself, Rey was not yet ready to confront the weapon which had clearly called to her.

He gave Rey her space, choosing to remain in the bunks for a while, falling into an old habit to try and clear his thoughts by meditating. Even under Snoke's guidance, he had found meditation to be beneficial for calming himself. It took the edge off, gave him a moment to reflect, and sometimes served to only stir his confusion as he dwelled over more thoughts than he should. But this time, he let himself go, lost in the sensation of drifting, emptying his mind, and trying to purge it all, clear his head. Unfortunately, this time was no different from the others. He found himself drifting in darkness, voices whispering, accusing, cold fingers grasping at him, bright flashes of light revealing cold violent scenes jumbled in his mind… The past, the future, he could not tell. But looming above him, red saber gleaming in the darkness, the leering helm of Kylo Ren kept vigil.

When he finally emerged from the bunks into the main hold, he felt just as drained as before he had started his meditation. He brushed his dark hair out of his face, feeling the dirt and grime caking it, dried with blood. Rey was nowhere to be seen. A brief reach with his feelings brushed against her tightly controlled fear and anxiety, curled up in the cockpit.

He let her be, instead slipping into the small medical bay to use the shower stall tightly packed in the corner. It was barely large enough for him to turn around, though it had been altered to accommodate someone larger and taller than he. No doubt his father got tired of smelling foul wookiee body odor, and made Chewbacca bathe now and then. It felt good, letting the water pool on his face, scrubbing away the film of the last few days. When he finally emerged and glanced in the mirror, a pale and gaunt looking man stared back at him, barely recognizable. The bacta patches were holding well, waterproof as they were to promote healing, but he still could see the ugly welt of burns beneath the weave of the bandage. Dark brown eyes rimmed with red, blotches of purple shadowing them in his pale face peered back at him, wary and uncertain. It had been so long since he had studied his own face, he barely recognized himself. He ran a hand around the stubble of his chin, then rummaged through the cupboard until he found a razor, making an attempt to at least tidy himself up a bit. Nonetheless, the tired eyes of Ben Solo watched him as he dried his face off, Kylo Ren deep in hiding, buried beneath the shadow of the man he had been, come back to haunt him.

He didn't want to face her.

He knew it was inevitable, but it didn't mean he looked forward to it.

 _What had she seen?_

The ramp to the Falcon's deck was behind the cockpit, so she wouldn't have seen anything if she didn't turn backwards to watch him face the army of Stormtroopers. Still, her senses had awakened, and there was no way she could have missed the swell of anger and intense emotions that had embraced the Force as he fought, even if she didn't understand it, she had to know that he had been hiding something from her.

 _But what now_ , he thought bitterly. She would ask, he would have to answer… and it would come to the decision what to tell her, the truth, or a lie.

 _If you lie to her, and she finds out, she will resent you_. And then there was the truth; that was even less appealing. S _he will hate you if she finds out the monster you were._ But was it better to be hated and honest, or resented with the lies having collapsed around him?

 _Perhaps something of the two then… honesty but be upfront that some things you aren't ready to tell her just yet._

He rubbed his face tiredly. He had run from the truth for so long, now it was time it caught up to him. It was going to be a rough ride either way.

He dressed, and tried to make himself as presentable as possible, but still looked pale and wan as he exited the washroom.

She was seated at the central table as he entered the room, poking half-heartedly at the food before her, which looked as if it had been freeze dried in a Hutt's storage room and left to rot in the sun. He could only imagine how old it was, if she'd found it in the Falcon's storage compartments. She didn't glance up at him as he slid into the booth seat across from her, but he noticed she had stopped prodding the pseudo-food. He could feel her agitation, confusion, fear and awe licking at her like a fire. Her questions were piling up like a cup about to overflow. He didn't say anything. It was better if she came to the decision to speak about her experiences on her own. Even so, he still didn't know what he was going to say.

"Is Maz ok?" her voice was quiet, but filled with worry. He realized that he hadn't given her much of an explanation on their way out. She still had no idea why they had to flee, she had only woken to see the devastation.

"Yes." He replied, watching the tension bleed out of her, shoulders dipping in relief. "Don't worry. Maz can handle herself fine enough. She's used to that kind of thing from time to time. Hazards of being the galaxy's number one pirate."

A faint smile flashed over her face, green eyes lifting to meet his. He saw confusion reflected back at him, the expression of someone just brought face-to-face with something they didn't understand and weren't prepared to deal with. "I'm glad," she murmured. "I liked her." She prodded the dried food again, watching as what probably once had been meat disintegrated under her touch. Still, she didn't seem willing to open up. He couldn't blame her. Whatever had happened had frightened her to the core, deeply so. He knew what that kind of scare did to someone.

"Rey." He said quietly.

Her eyes shifted, uncomfortably falling to the table then back up. "After you left… I was furious at you." He grimaced at the sudden strong look of anger directed his way, but it fizzled out quickly, overcome by the disturbance that remained in her thoughts. "All I could think of, was why would you want to leave? Why are you afraid of the Resistance? You helped me all this way, and now you want to just abandon me on my own… just like my parents did…"

He cringed internally feeling the familiar rise of guilt swell within. _Not your parents…_

"Then I heard a voice…" Her eyes lifted, staring at him intently, and he saw the uncertainty there. "I followed it downstairs, to a room, where there was a box." She swallowed nervously. "It felt like something was… calling to me. And when I opened it…" She shut her eyes, clenching her fists tightly.

Beneath his robes, he felt the heavy weight of his uncle's lightsaber pressing against his hip. _Did she even know? Most likely not, Maz said that was my duty_. How was he going to explain to her, the significance of what she had experienced?

That lightsaber had been his uncles, and his grandfather's before that. It's history was riddled with strife, torment, anguish. This was the saber which had murdered hundreds of innocents, the saber that had defied its first owner, and been lost to it's second. And now, it fell into the hands of another tormented soul, confused and lost, the two sides of his spirit ever tugging against each other. The question was… why Rey?

His hand gripped it tightly, and he was startled to realize he felt something thrumming there, beneath the surface, warmth against his hand as it dug around the metal grooves. It was all he could do to release his fingers slowly from the saber, the buzzing feeling subsiding as he released his hold, and Rey's soft words fading back into range as he re-focused back on what she was saying, still disoriented from the sudden pull of the Force. It had called to her, not him, it was hers by right. Nonetheless, he still felt a certain amount of possessiveness in considering why it had called to her, not him. Reassuringly, his right hand rested on his own saber, a perfect mirror to his grandfather's, also responsible for murdering, slaughtering, tormenting… it's synthetic Kyber crystal cracked and flawed, like himself… The two weapons, balanced perfectly on either side, opposing yet in harmony with one another, co-existing tentatively.

Rey was still speaking, though she hadn't gotten far. He recalled distractedly she had been talking about her fear. He watched her closely as she swallowed nervously staring at her tightly clenched hands as she described what she had seen. A corridor, fire, a man with a droid and a robotic hand, shadowy figures before her, a red lightsaber impaling a man…

His chest tightened, as he stiffened in shock, unable to hold back the intake of breath as he instantly listened to her words as she described her vision.

The masked figure turning, approaching through the sheeting rain. A scream of agony. Bright blinding lightning. The masked figure reaching a hand out, power and control radiating around the violent scene with bodies scattered all around. The flash of a white light as it intercepted the brilliant crimson blade.

And she fell silent.

His face was white as a sheet, his fingers gripped so tightly he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm as he sat rigidly before her. Sweat was beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temple as he stared at her, reeling.

 _That battle scene…_ Force visions could show much, and not all of the images were clear or the whole truth. Sometimes it could be pieces of a whole, cut and diced into samples that left impressions which might not be fully complete. He had led the Knights of Ren for years, they had done many despicable things, including slaughtering others. He had fought many a battle…

 _But the scene in which she described…_

A cold clench of something foreboding gripped him.

He was aware she was staring at him, and he forced himself to blink slowly, taking a deep breath. "Sorry." He murmured, aware his voice was shaking slightly.

"Are you ok…?" she asked uncertainly, staring at his pale face. "Here." She shoved a glass of water at him, to which he took quickly and downed, an excuse to avoid talking to her.

He didn't meet her eyes. He wasn't ready yet. His insides were still quaking, and he felt suddenly ill. She waited for him to finish, and he offered her a faint flash of a smile. "Sorry. The wound." he offered, as way of an explanation. It was a lie, but she didn't seem to notice, nodding once, and leaning back, accepting his response. "So this… vision…. Did you recognize anyone in it?"

"No." She said quietly, shaking her head. He felt his heart clench tighter. If only she knew. "I thought maybe one of the voices…. Maybe two…. And I had this feeling I SHOULD know who was there. But I can't quite make it out." He could feel her fear rising back to the surface again. "It felt like a dream… or a nightmare."

"Maybe it was both." He offered quietly, and at her puzzled stare, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What did Maz say to you?"

Her jaw clenched. "...she said… it was the Force."

And there it was. Simple as that, she had her answer. But like so many, she didn't understand it. He could relate. He recalled his first Force vision, raw, intense, instilling such fear in him from the violent images he had seen, that he'd refused to sleep for days, until exhaustion finally claimed him. He had seen things that he had no right to see, images of the past, of his own future. Images that had come true, and now were memories that haunted him. These visions were warnings, but they did not have to be the truth. He recalled his uncle telling him how he had tried to avert the events of a vision he had when training with his own master, Yoda. It had not gone as he expected, and the vision had come true, but not in the way he'd seen it. The visions could be misleading, parts of a whole, pieces of a shattered mirror.

"...how much do you know of the Force?" the question was asked slowly, deliberately. He couldn't assume here, and though he felt he knew what her answer would be, he had to be certain. He was walking a very thin line between earning her trust, or breaking it. From how she was behaving, he already had deduced she had not seen what he had done while she prepped the Falcon. Likely she had been far too overwhelmed and focused on fixing the hyperdrive to know what was going on outside the ship. A small blessing to be sure, but one he felt might have repercussions later.

Rey frowned, brow furrowing. "I dunno." she answered, honestly, shrugging slightly. "Stories, mostly. The Jedi use it. They have powers…" she trailed off, her gaze going to him, as if asking if she was right.

"The Force is… just what it sounds like." He said slowly, allowing his hands to leave his lap, spreading over the table. A scar on the back of his right hand flexed as he stretched his fingers out as he elaborated. "It is a force of nature. It exists. It's not as mystical as some would think it to be, and it does exist, despite what others believe. But the only proof we have, are in the ones we know who can use it." He kept her gaze. He had to be careful here, very careful. He was only fortunate his studies into the history of the Jedi and the Sith gave him a great deal of insight that kept him removed from either group. Instead of directing the attention at himself, he used a scapegoat. "Maz Kanata can use the Force."

Her breath sucked in sharply, eyes widening in surprise. "She's a Jedi?"

He smiled, despite himself. "No. She'd be insulted that you think so." At Rey's confusion, he tried to clarify a bit. "The Force is just a part of this universe, like gravity or sound. Those who know how to manipulate it, can. The Jedi were just one group who formed an Order to unite users of the Force together. There were others, older groups, who pre-dated the Jedi, but the Jedi are the ones most remember since they were the most prominent, who intervened in galactic affairs." Understanding seemed to form in her eyes, as she watched him, brow creased in thought. "But just because you can tap into the Force, does not make you a Jedi. "

"So… everything is real then." she breathed, wonder lighting up those enticing green eyes of hers. "The Jedi, The Force…"

He felt a shudder sweep down his spine. The haunting image of Kylo Ren leered at him again, mocking laughter echoing in his head. "Yes… " His hand wrapped around his uncle's lightsaber, tightening, as he slowly removed it from his belt, and placed it on the table before her. "I know this frightened you. But it's a part of you, whether you want it or not."

He watched her eyes harden, fists tightening in her lap making her thin arms clench. "Why now? After all this time on my own, why NOW."

There were many ways to answer that question, none of which ended well in his mind. He traced back everything they had been through together. If he had not encountered her, she never would have left Jakku, or perhaps even met the droid. If he had not left the Order, he never would have been on Jakku. Therefore, it was his fault that she had awakened, his presence, his actions that had set a chain of events in motion.

 _Just as they had to bring her to Jakku in the first place._

"Have you ever felt as if there was an invisible hand of fate guiding you?" he asked slowly, speaking not just to her, but also to himself. "As if your actions were pre-judged in a way, something out there directing you on a path, steering you purposely towards it?" Her frown was confirmation that she had felt that from time to time. "Some call it Fate. Others see it as the Force at work. Sometimes, things happen for a reason." His eyes flicked up at her, carefully weighing his next words. "When you piloted that ship, you moved as a pilot would who had twenty years experience. How do you think that was?"

She blinked, eyes widening. "I… don't know. I've flown speeders before, but never a starship. It just…. Came to me." A slow smile began to spread over her face. "You mean, that was the Force. Guiding me?"

He nodded slowly. "It's not something that is always flashy and obvious. Sometimes it works in subtle ways."

She seemed to consider that, and then… she asked what he knew would be inevitable. "How… do you know so much about it?"

He had been expecting the question, bracing himself for it. But it didn't mean that he knew how to answer yet. When put on the spot, the two halves of his mind stepped forward.

Kylo Ren whispering to him to show her his power, for she would find it enticing. _You could sway her, lure her in, teach her._ He would have a partner, a friend, someone to tutor and study, someone who understood him. _She already described her vision. She knows you are powerful, if you reveal yourself._

But then, Ben Solo brought up a single point. _You never wanted that power, and look what it did to you_. He folded his hand slowly over the table, staring at them.

It was time for the truth, part of it anyway.

Once they got to the Resistance base, he would have to come clean to someone eventually. He only could pray that the two or three people who knew his face just happened to be elsewhere. Very few knew Kylo Ren had once been Ben Solo, and only a handful of those knew what he looked like without his iconic mask. His thoughts drifted back to his satchel , still carrying his armor the helmet wedged inside his padded black suit, which he had chosen not to don, but could not bring himself to discard either. If anyone found that, or spotted his unique saber hidden in his robes, he would be faced with a difficult decision.

And he wasn't entirely certain he would pick the right choice.

"I told you back on Jakku…." the words came slowly as he forced himself to speak, thoughts racing, "...that I was a mercenary. Which is true, that is how I have been making my living. But it was not always so." His dark eyes met hers, holding, studying her reaction closely. "I was a member of the New Order… up until a year ago."

The surprise and shock on her face was expected. What he did not expect, was the shift to pride. "You left them," she said firmly, leaning forward, expression intense. "You chose to?"

"I did."

"Then that's all that matters." She said firmly.

"Rey…" he looked at her, almost desperate for her not to forgive him so quickly. "Do you even know what the New Order is? What they are capable of?"

"I may have grown up on Jakku, but I'm not an idiot." she said firmly. "I know. They're the old Empire, just with a new name."

"It's more than that... " he murmured, aware that while she said she knew, he doubted she had any formal history training. How could she know? Her only exposure were the ones scorned and embittered by the fall-out of forfeited vessels and trade routes. He doubted she knew much about the Clone Wars at all, other than they happened. The New Order was far more than just a label and a faceless enemy. Things were never so cut and dry in reality, there were always shades of gray.

Granted…. The New Order's grey was near pitch in color.

He on the other hand, knew far too much for his own good. He envied her naivete.

"You asked me how I know so much about the Force," he continued, trying to push past the weight of guilt that was pressing down on him. "The Supreme Commander of the New Order is a man called Snoke." The name seemed to be lost on her, but he felt something roil deep within him at the mention of his second master's name. "He built the New Order from the ashes of the Empire. Some say he is part of the old Sith, but I don't think he sees himself that way. He also happens to be a Force User."

Her breath caught. "Like the Emperor…."

"Like the Emperor," he agreed grimly. "He is a puppet master, pulling the strings of others. Some of those others include Force users like himself."

Her eyes widened slightly. "...those men in my vision," she whispered, and he felt himself whither inside, even though she still had no way of knowing the truth. "Standing in the sea of bodies…" he saw her lips move, whispering something to herself.

He let the silence hang over them, not willing to say more on the subject, his pulse rapid, fast, fear coursing through him the closer they got to the truth. He decided against naming the men she had seen, it lingered far too close to his own identity to be a safe thing to reveal. _That scene…_ Haunting him, following him through his nightmares. _Was it the past? Or yet to come?_

He felt a part of himself detach, speaking about himself in a third person point of view. It felt… wrong, lying to her. Even if he wasn't directly lying, omitting everything felt the same. "A group under Snoke's direct command, led by his apprentice."

"...him I've heard about."

He stiffened not having expected that. "How?" _Kriff, does she know the name of the man so so fears? Does she know he is seated right before her very eyes?_

"The traders and junkers all have stories to tell about him…" she murmured, and he knew she was remembering her vision, picturing the dark shadow in the rain. "...death follows him. They're all afraid." She glanced at him, eyes veiled. "Is he as bad as they say?"

He didn't answer. How could he? No doubt she'd heard the horror tales that circulated about the shadow of death that was Kylo Ren. How he could kill someone without lifting a finger, how he had lead the slaughter of hundreds of innocents. His knights were feared across the galaxy, himself even more so… For good reason. And the clues were right there in front of her, but like so many who did not want to see the truth, she was missing the most obvious one, the name he had given her. Unless she did not know the name of the spectre she had heard so much about… His eyes studied her, trying to read her, but felt nothing other than confusion, discomfort and a sense of being overwhelmed radiating from her. It seemed perhaps that was the case. She did not know his name, only his reputation.

He honestly wasn't sure if this was fortune, or sheer dumb luck. Perhaps he had inherited something of his father's after all.

"No wonder you left." Her words broke through the spiral of his thoughts, tearing him away from the abyss once more. He glanced up at her, expression pinched, finding only gentleness reflected back at him. He shivered, straightening up in his seat quickly, shoving that memory deep down within his soul once more. But even as he looked at her, those tear-filled green eyes continued to haunt him. "So is that who was after us? On Takodana?"

"Yes." he agreed quietly. "The droid most likely. Whatever he has in his memory banks, it's worth attacking Maz's refuge. Maz won't soon forget that either."

She glanced over at BB8, frowning slightly. "What could be so important?" BB8 regarded them both, then beeped a series of whistles and chords. "A map? To where?"

The answer struck him like a punch in the gut.

He felt his blood go cold, and that invisible grip around his neck tightened, vibrating with laughter from the one who was still pulling his strings.

Rey's innocence was hard to take, her wide green eyes sparkling with excitement. "A map to Luke Skywalker? I thought he was a myth!"

A myth… a man who she had seen in her vision, but did not know it yet. A myth, who somehow managed to haunt his nephew while still maintaining an elusive presence in the galaxy. A man who had left it all behind, because he had been betrayed by his most promising student who he had focused all his efforts into. He didn't' even realize he had bitten his lip until he tasted blood, quickly licking his lips and clearing his throat, listening to Rey grill BB8 for more information. But the little droid didn't know anything more. The map was on a removable chip drive, and incomplete. Supposedly, the rest was elsewhere. The question was, where?

"No wonder the New Order was after him… he's the last of the Jedi!" Rey was gushing eagerly. "I heard stories of how he brought down the Empire, single handedly!"

There was irony in that statement, he realized.

His grip tightened on the lightsaber again. The Force, Fate, whatever, seemed to revel in making him writhe. And somewhere in his funeral pyre, his grandfather was rolling over at the injustice that his name carried at being forgotten for his part in the whole affair. "Luke Skywalker didn't defeat the Empire alone. He had help… a whole attack squad, not to mention this ship."

 _Kriff. Had I meant to say that?_

Her eyes were even wider than before, if that was even possible. "Wait… what? What do you mean this ship?"

He sighed, pinching his nose with his fingers. _This really isn't my day. "_ How many YT-1300 freighters do you see lying around in junkyards lately? There aren't many left. And this one has smuggling holds under the deck. Not to mention the fur clogging up the shower." Never mind he knew these halls like the back of his hand, every nook, every cranny, every hiding spot. He had spent hours tricking Chewie into looking into other rooms when he was hiding in plain sight, just to practice his Force powers, and watch the big furball roar with laughter when he found him at last.

"This is the Millennium Falcon!" she whispered breathlessly. "We're IN the Millennium Falcon, the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs!"

He nearly choked on his water, and had to hide a smile behind his mouth as he fought to retain his composure. _Fourteen. Oh, boy._ Han Solo would have imploded. "I think it was twelve." He managed, clearing his throat.

She leaned back, staring around them, as if seeing the walls for the first time. "I wonder how it ended up on Jakku… Didn't the ship belong to the Rebellion General, Han Solo?"

"Probably lost it gambling. Again." he muttered to himself. If there was one thing that had never changed about his father, it was the fact he was, is, and always would be a scoundrel more likely to get into trouble than not. It didn't surprise him in the least that he'd lost the Falcon again. The ship had more owners than oil changes.

"You think he's looking for it?"

"Maybe. Wouldn't surprise me if she has a tracker on her." He hoped by then he'd be long gone. The last thing he wanted to do was have a reunion with the man who had abandoned his own son years ago to the whims of a mystical coot. He hoped that they might be able to ditch the Falcon at the Resistance base. Han certainly would be tickled to find it parked there waiting for him. He found it odd, that he felt a sense of small pride that he could stick it to his father anonymously. He'd be driven crazy trying to figure out who gift-wrapped it and left it on his doorstep, feeling he owed him one. It'd be just like him too. He smirked to himself. Of course, if his mother found out…. She might have it smelted for parts.

Rey sighed, looking suddenly exhausted. Not that he could blame her. It had been a long day… and days like this tended to run together. He wasn't even sure how many hours it had been since their last night spent on Jakku, but it felt like more than one. "Get some rest." He urged, gesturing to her. "The shower is small but functional. We have a few days to kill, no sense burning ourselves out. We can talk more when you've had some sleep."

She didn't protest, and threw him a grateful smile before rising and vanishing into the back.

* * *

Notes:

Thank you yet again for reading. A lot happened in this chapter including heavy foreshadowing and the occasional cheesy movie quote ... and the complications are just beginning.

Next Chapter: The General


	5. Chapter 5: The General

The shadows of the past haunt him in his dreams, and his waking life. The moment of truth has come, and he's not quite sure he's ready for it.

Not that he has much of a choice in the matter.

 _Note: A slight departure for a short time from Ben's POV, in order to fill in the appropriate reactions necessary. I will do this from time to time as needed, but the focus will try to remain from Ben's perspective primarily._

* * *

Chapter 5: The General

Somehow, he managed to avoid discussing the Force in great detail with her. Part of the reason might have been Rey still was still too shaken by her vision to approach the topic. It was one thing to dream about being able to do the things Jedi could do, it was another entirely to actually BE a part of it. The whole time, he still hadn't worked up the courage to explain the lightsabers' history to her. He kept thinking he would find the right time, but that time seemed to drag it's feet. He knew inevitably he was going to have to explain it, after all no one else would, but to do so would admit his part in the matter, and he was still fighting the silent call to reveal everything to her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was a mistake. It was going to compound into more complications, and she would be furious with him. But the idea of coming clean terrified him in ways he could not consider.

He had to question why. After all, when he had left Snoke, he had still considered himself to be Kylo Ren. He had still behaved and acted the part, and anyone who got in his way had found themselves seriously considering their own mortality. But sometime during his year of self-imposed exile, something had changed. It had been gradual, so subtle he hadn't even noticed it until that day on Jakku when he had locked eyes with the scavenger.

In that moment, he realized that he had been teetering on a fine edge between his personas. And Rey had tilted him back in the favor of the man he had been, and he had completely missed the moment that had happened.

Once he would have fought it. _Ben Solo was dead, after all_. Kylo Ren had killed him, or so he'd thought. But as more time passed, it seemed less likely that this was the truth. In fact, Ben Solo had merely been biding his time in hiding, waiting for the right moment to return, reminding him that his past could not be contained, nor a part of himself.

And now, the storm of conflict from his two halves continued to rage within, at constant war with themselves. When he was calm Ben Solo seemed in control. When he was not…

The problem was, though he fought with himself, the rest of the galaxy did not know this. To them, Kylo Ren was a dangerous rogue fugitive from both sides of the war. An element unknown to himself, unstable, fearsome, and risky.

And those green eyes had tamed him.

He had no idea how she had done it, but Rey convinced him that wearing the black desert nomad outfit was going to draw more attention rather than help him blend in, which he couldn't deny since it was eclectic even for a star-base. But the flip-side to that was he knew his face was nearly as conspicuous to those who knew it. Either way, he would be asked to bare his face out of need for trust. The Resistance wouldn't trust a masked man, no matter the form.

He relented under pressure and managed to find a few article of clothing which he knew, to his horror, belonged to his father. The pants didn't fit him at all; he towered over his father by several inches, and was broader in places thanks to his relentless training. He'd had to stitch his old pant leg together as best he could, tucking them into his boots to hide the rip in the leg. He kept his sleeveless black tunic and belt, but slipped on one of his father's shirts to cover his scarred arms, folding the sleeves up over his elbow, glad of the loose flow of the fabric, as it would have been snug if it were fitted. He was a great deal more muscled than his scrawny scoundrel of a father, and his torso was taller as well. The vest served as a convenient way to hide his lightsaber, tucked closely in one of the hidden interior pockets. He placed his uncle's saber in the opposing pocket, since Rey was not ready to confront the weapon yet, and he didn't dare leave it lying around where anyone could see it. Having a lightsaber on your belt tended to draw questions. His blaster was good enough a display on his hip to deter anyone looking for trouble for the time being, though he knew his use of it was sorely lacking.

He just hoped no one decided to search the ship. He had, smartly, hidden his armor and helmet in one of the lesser-known smuggling compartments in the hold of the bunks, nestled away next to, amusingly, an old stash of bootlegged liquor Han clearly had been storing for special occasions. It would be safer out of sight, and had less chance to raise questions.

Unless his father showed up, that was.

He really didn't want to think what would happen if, when they got to the base, he encountered one, or both of his parents. If he'd had his choice, he never would have faced them again, avoiding them until his last day. His resentment for his father still was a dark shadow in his mind, the raw anger and bitterness eating away at him anytime he was forced to think on the matter. Being on this ship didn't help any. It was like a constant dagger in his mind, a feeling of illness in his gut. Being forced to don clothing Han Solo had worn was just icing on the cake, a further indication that Kylo Ren had sunk about as low as he could go. But Ben Solo kept a tight reign on him, though the bitterness remained, the reminder of WHY he was doing this kept his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

His mother on the other hand… The deep well of shame and dread was almost worse.

It was all he could do to resist throwing open the bulkhead door and fleeing to certain death, rather than confront the idea that he would inevitably be forced to face her.

Even being executed was a more desirable alternative.

Nonetheless, he moved forward, preparing with Rey as they neared their departure, pretending that he was just some insignificant pawn of the universe, playing the part.

He really should have polished up his targeting practice a bit, if he wanted to play a convincing mercenary. While he was no inept idiot with the gun, his skill hardly matched that of Han Solo's. His father had spent tireless hours of downtime with him during trips across the galaxy, teaching him to shoot. But it had been quite some time since he had actually practiced the art. He preferred the manual feel of a blade in his hand, or the Force at his control. Blasters, to him, felt crude, too easy to avoid. Nonetheless, he strapped his to his leg, deftly cleaning it with a cloth and ensuring it was in top order. It wouldn't do to go into a fight with a malfunctioning weapon due to his own ineptitude. He was TRYING to keep a low profile.

 _Not that it was going to work_ , he thought darkly. _What the hell am I doing anyway? There's no way in the two suns of Tatooine that I'm going to pull this off without being recognized. Then what?_

He hesitated to think what he would be forced to do, if anyone fired a shot at him. It would end badly. For that person.

He had been reluctant to abandon his cloak. Having nothing available to hide his face unnerved him. He was used to the flowing garments that hid any ungainly stumbles he might have under those rare moments of incoordination. He had been very awkward as a youth, falling over feet too large for his growing body. While he had aged into it eventually, he had spent much of his adult life in robes, rather than tightly fit slacks. Used to the imposing presence dressing as he did, civilian clothing did not sit well with him, although the flush of color on his cheeks when Rey had said it suited him had filled him with conflict.

Still, there was no denying the aggressive stride he used. Familiar with threatening rather than co-operating, his natural postures reflected his need to seem more powerful. Unlike his father, who knew how to move quick, he preferred to stand his ground and face his opponent head-on. This reflected in how he held himself, tall, imposing, and confidant. He was less like the smuggler father whose ship he had stolen, more like another relative long dead.

Rey had told him to loosen up, since he looked like he was about to punch the mirror as he glared at his reflection, seeing an all-too-familiar face staring back at him, despite the mop of dark waves cascading around his face, shadowing his chiseled features. He itched to grab his helmet and armor, hiding away from that part of him which seemed so determined to return.

All it would take was one person, one person to recognize him, and that would be it.

Though in the past year he had kept a back seat to the events going on in the galaxy, and knew none of what had transpired other than the rumors he had glimpsed from conversations and news bulletins, memories were sharp and not easily forgotten in the case of Kylo Ren.

He was their enemy, dangerous. And he was about to infiltrate their base.

Never mind that he had no intention of smuggling secrets back to the Order or assassinating any Generals. That hardly mattered. He was a criminal to them. And he did not deny that he deserved the fate they would demand for him, the moment the truth was known. But he could not permit it. He did not deny his crimes or his part, but he did know while he felt a swell of confusion when considering what he had done, he could not let it sway him from his goal.

Rey. She would need guidance and support to find her own truths.

And he could not leave her.

He could only hope he were as lucky as his father, who had managed to swindle his way out of tougher spots than this, or so he might have claimed. At least he had the benefit that his mask was more notorious than his own face.

There were in fact a very select number of people who knew his identity. The big family secret, which seemed to be passed down from generation to generation ironically, was that despite how powerful the two men of the Skywalker family who had embraced the dark side was, few actually KNEW the secret until much later. Darth Vader's identity had been hidden well for so many years, and it was only in Ben's youth that the full truth had been revealed, in a very public and traumatic way.

Because of this, his family had kept the truth about his identity quiet. He had no doubt the top leaders of the Resistance knew Kylo Ren and Ben Solo were the same person. However, to the rest it remained a tightly kept secret shared only to the ones closest to the General and Han Solo. Furthermore, no one from his past had seen the face behind the mask for over six years. Even before the events at the Jedi Academy, Ben had been distant from his own family, not communicating with them. He had grown up in his uncle's care, changing from a boy into the man he would become, the man who he would reject and hide from. The man he was now.

Thus, it fell to two people specifically who would know his face, if he was lucky. Perhaps three, if one considered Chewbacca. Four and five if you counted the droids, who in all truth were far more likely to recognize him than any human eyes. The Resistance leaders would connect the name, but unlikely they knew him on sight.

In some way, it felt like a coming of age. A delayed moment from his youth, where once he might have faced the trial to becoming a man. To confront himself, to force those who knew him to do the same. His year in hiding was about to officially come to an end. And all his past sins, would now be inevitably be catching up with him. The question was, would they kill him, capture him, or would they actually listen to him before pulling the trigger?

The worst part was, Rey was going to find out the hard way, because he could not find a way to tell her the truth.

And that, beyond anything else, was eating him alive.

"Relax." Rey said quietly, reaching over and squeezing his arm lightly. It just made him tense more, for other more subtle reasons to which she appeared oblivious. "What are the chances anyone will have fought you and recognize you?"

 _Pretty damn high_ , he thought bitterly. If anyone had seen him on the battlefield wielding his weapon, in his element, they would recognize his fighting style. Not that he expected a fight right away, but the possibility remained. If he lashed out with his power, he wasn't entirely certain he could control what happened, to himself, or to the others. He was going to to have to try to restrain himself, use the blaster, not the saber hidden in his vest, nor the Force thrumming right below his fingers, begging to be used.

Still… How long would that last? "Rey… promise me something." He murmured, glancing at her, his expression somber. At the slight tilt of her head, he took a slow breath, in an attempt to quell the swell of dischord surging within him. "If this does not work, if things go wrong… please do not think less of me for it."

 _Right. Like she would actually follow through, if that happened._

Again, she gave him that odd look. "Ren…"

She interrupted by the proximity alarm of the hyperdrive as it announced their arrival. They both shifted their focus, the tense moment dissolving back into duty. "Ok, here we go…." Rey murmured, pulling back on the throttle, watching as the rapid streak of stars aligned back into pinpoints of light and they emerged from the hyperspace window into view of a green planet beneath them.

BB8 beeped happily, jacking into the computer and sending the exact co-ordinates into their system, along with the pre-authorized landing codes. It was all done in a second, transmissions sent, accepted, landing co-ordinates received.

Rey followed the heading, descending below clouds to reveal a cement bunker, smattering of starfighter ships, radar tower, and defense turrets. A strong burst of nostalgia hit him, staring out the window at the scene. _Why is it,_ he wondered to himself, _whether it is Resistance, Rebellion or New Republic, all the bases look alike?_ This one struck him as reminiscent of the old ruins of Yavin his father had taken him to once, a 'history' lesson of sorts. His mother had not been pleased at the excursion, especially after she had learned they'd followed it up with Hoth and Endor.

A prickle on the back of his neck tickled his mind. Endor. The one place he had FELT a connection to. The one place where the Force had called to him, where his grandfather's grave lay in a hidden place in the forest. Where he had irrevocably shifted perspectives, feeling the call of the darkness.

He shook his head. No, he could not be distracted by the spectre of Darth Vader in his mind. He had to focus.

Rey already was carefully circling the tarmac, aiming for the open spot at the end that provided plenty of space for the Falcon to land. As the ship tilted, his eyes scanned the scene, various ground personnel paused what they were doing, staring up at them, and he could see them gesturing excitedly.

 _They recognize the ship._

A tight feeling in his chest began to take hold, and he resisted the urge to reach out with his feelings. If he did so, there was a chance she would feel his presence. He wanted to know, felt he SHOULD know, but somewhere deep inside, he still resisted the call.

By the time the drive engines were cycling down once they landed, there was quite a crowd gathering. A quick glance told him no familiar faces were among those gathered. An initial relief, at least. "Go," he said to Rey as she stood nervously by the door. "I will be behind you."

"Come on, Ren, don't make me go down there alone." She insisted, green eyes pleading with him, frustration on her face.

"I just want to make sure if anyone reacts, you will not be targeted by standing next to me."

The look she gave him was pensive, and troubled. He ignored it, and hit the ramp controls, allowing the door to extend and lower. BB8 was the first to roll down, beeping eagerly to the crowd. Rey slowly followed behind, nervously smiling at the sea of unfamiliar faces, nervously gripping her staff as it was lashed to her back. Snippets of excited conversation floated up to his ears as he watched her step onto the tarmac.

"Isn't that Poe Damerons' droid? What's it doing in that old scrapheap?"

"That's the Millennium Falcon!"

"Son of a sarlacc… someone get the General!"

 _Well… that answered that question,_ he thought bitterly. That feeling of dread intensified, twisting painfully in his gut.

Rey glanced around uncertainly, offering a tentative smile, not sure what to say, or who to address. He noticed not more than a few were craning their necks up the ramp in an attempt to get a look at him from where he stood in the shadows. He knew why; dressed like this, he was a spitting image of his father. _If only they knew…_ Grimacing, he took a deep breath, and strode into view, descending down the ramp, one hand on his blaster, the other clenched tightly at his side.

 _Control. I will not kill anyone today._

Confused blank stares initially greeted him, followed by abrupt disinterest as the crowd realized it was not, in fact, Han Solo standing in the shadows, but a man they did not know. No weapons raised his way, no alarmed faces, no sharp gasps of breath or low whispers.

Slowly, he let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, as he came to stand behind Rey.

It seemed his father's luck was holding out for him. So far.

A ginger-bearded round-faced man stepped forward, apologizing as he pushed to the front. "What the blazes is going on? Where is Poe Dameron, who are you two, and what in the two suns are you doing in THAT?" His chin jerked up at the Falcon meaningfully.

He could feel Rey floundering unsure of what to say. He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder in silent support, and her shoulders drew up straighter, confidence taking hold. "We found your droid. He said his master was captured by the New Order… we ended up being chased by them, stole that from a junkyard…" she thumbed back at the Falcon, "...and made our way here to bring him back." Her lips pursed together. "We want to help."

BB8 set off on a series of chirps and warbles, the men listening to the droid before regarding them with a little less hostility. "Is that so? Well…" The man ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully staring at them, blue eyes roaming them each in turn, not hostile, but wary. "The droid confirms what you say, that you did help him return here. That being the case, I suppose you should follow me. Come on." He gestured with a hand, then turned on his boot, quickly walking towards the bunker entrance.

 _Odd. They seem very unconcerned for the major security breach we just invited into their secret base._

Cautiously, he threw a glance over at two men with blaster rifles who had silently fallen into step behind them as they followed the man. Instantly, he reached out with subtle fingers of his mind, twisting into their surface thoughts with a faint brush they would not recognize, and blinked at what he found.

Something was very wrong here.

His gaze swept back to the line of X-wings, noticing for the first time, the mechanics were furiously working on them, with a sense of tension he had not initially gleamed.

 _What is going on?_ He sensed no clear answer from any surface thoughts as his grip tightened on his belt, twitching to hold his saber, an urge he fought off with reluctance.

 _They are preparing for battle. Something has happened in the time since I was away from the Order._

His mind swept over the most obvious possibility. _Have they completed the weapon?_ His brow shadowed at the thought. He had never approved of the base. It was an architectural marvel, true, but it's purpose was cowardly, shameful. While he had not tried actively to stop it's creation, he had let his feelings be known to Snoke.

Now it seemed his inaction was going to cost lives.

 _I should have put a stop to it before I left..._

Disgust washed over him. What kind of man had he become to have permitted such a horror to continue? Even Kylo Ren despised the idea. That alone should have warned him, if his darker half was even repulsed by the monstrosity of mass-genocide. To do battle against a foe was one thing, to slaughter from afar quite something else entirely.

His thoughts were cut off as they were ushered into the bunker, down several flights of stairs, and into a crowded room. Before he even took two steps to descend, he felt a sudden warning pressure scream into his mind as a familiar presence swelled up before him. He tried to slow and turn around, but the men behind him shoved him forward in their hurry to follow him into the meeting room. He had little choice but to follow suit, reluctantly casting his gaze past the throngs of people, to peer at the cluster of monitoring stations and bright lights, where several people were gathered in a heated discussion over something displayed on one of the view screens. Two admirals whose names he felt he should know but eluded him, and a woman with her back to him.

He knew who it was, even before he lay eyes upon her.

A calm swell of resignation rose within him, followed by a powerful sense of loss, as his eyes locked on the familiar form of his mother.

General Leia Organa was older, more weathered than he'd last remembered. Where once laugh lines creased her cheeks now were deepened by something less warm. Grief and worry had etched her noble features with age, auburn hair fading to a washed shade of brown rimmed with grey. She was less soft, more severe, the stress and strain of all that had happened seemed etched in her features, her voice tired and worn. But that fierce spark within, the one he'd learned to respect and fear at times, still burned in her brown eyes.

It was fortunate the room was crowded, else their arrival would have drawn attention. As it was, the man who had met them at the tarmac shoved his way through the throngs of people and apologized quietly, interrupting the General, who half-turned to listen to what he had to say.

He locked down his presence as tight as it could go, every bit of his training concealing himself from her in that moment. If this happened here, it would be a shitshow. He could imagine numerous ways it would go wrong, not the least of which would be a shootout in close quarters which would put both Rey and his mother in danger.

Nonetheless, he was playing with fire, and he knew it would inevitably burn him.

He carefully backed away from Rey and stepped into the shadows, letting the General turn her attention instead to the young scavenger, not noticing her son standing concealed behind three pilots in red flight suits. Rey looked slightly flustered, turning her head, confused as to why he'd fallen behind, but was pulled gently forward by the bearded man. He couldn't hear what was tersely whispered, but his mother's head snapped to the side, staring intently at Rey, that familiar expression of fire flaring to life. The tension in the air practically crackled as he watched every single person's eyes lock on Rey instantly as she became the focus of attention. "You have it? The map?" Her familiar voice, so eager, so pleading, sent shivers down his back. "Show me. Please."

BB8 rolled forward, everyone granting him room, and presented the map. It shimmered, displaying star systems, but the detail was less broad than he expected. As he gazed upon the map, he realized it was just a part of a whole, not complete. No names, no references, just stars. It was not complete.

"Your Royal Highness!" An all-too familiar voice called out from off to his right. A path opened up amidst the people, revealing a shining golden droid shuffling his way through.

He resisted the urge to groan. _Not him._

Stealing a glance at Rey, he saw a look of astonishment painting her face, staring at the General with wonder and wide eyes. In a way, he found her innocence refreshing, and a light smile tugged at his lips. No doubt Rey was now quite aware of just who she was addressing. And the wonder in her eyes was hard to take. He had forgotten how imposing his mother could be, between her regal presence, and the lengthy deeds that followed her name, cementing her place in history as someone to be reckoned with. It was no wonder Rey saw a hero standing before her.

 _All I see when I look at her is regret_...

"Ah, sorry Prin… General..." C3PO said apologetically, before continuing at Leia's slight nod. "If I may say so, that map is hardly complete."

 _Thank you Captain Obvious_ , he thought exasperatedly. _Some droids never change. Speaking of… what the hell is with that red arm?_

He glanced over his shoulder, the sudden strong desire to leave only growing more powerful by the second. He could still salvage this, if he could only find a way to slip out unnoticed. But the number of men crowding the stairwell preventing his exit eliminated that option unless he wanted to cause a scene.

A sinking feeling began to take firm root in the pit of his stomach.

 _I have a bad feeling about this._

BB8 beeped something quickly. "Yes, I know, BB8, I was just getting to that." C3PO said impatiently. "General, BB8 says that there may be another who carries the rest of this map."

"R2…" Leia breathed eyes widening in understanding.

"Sadly, R2 has not come back online since Master Luke left. It is highly doubtful that we can complete the map without the rest of the data."

He felt his brow crease. _Curious._ What was the droid waiting for? A signal? Someone to switch him on? R2 was perhaps the most loyal to Luke Skywalker, more than anyone else. It didn't surprise him that the droid most likely was following his orders directly.

His attention returned to his mother as he noted the sudden change in her tone. "It will have to wait," she said firmly, slipping back into General mode. However, he could see the regret in her eyes. She wanted to see her brother again more than she let on, but that electric feeling of wrongness still lingered in the air. It was only then that his eyes lifted, staring at the star map, realizing he was studying a battle plan.

The feeling of wrongness only intensified in his chest, pressing down hard, stealing his breath from him. He clamped down on the same thought trying to re-iterate itself in his mind. But he couldn't shake the feeling.

"Thank you my dear… we will speak later." Leia said quietly to Rey, placing a hand on her shoulder before turning back to the room, voice shifting back into command mode. "Captain Wexley, you were saying?"

The eyes in the room shifted back to a dark-bearded man who he secretly thought seemed more comfortable in the pilot's chair then standing in front of an audience. "Black Squadron was sent to investigate unusual reports out of Rakata Prime. Some spacers had reported seeing… something big." He seemed uncomfortable with saying those words, since it was clear he had no further proof than that to back the words. "We couldn't find any evidence, but the whispers were it's some kind of mobile space station."

"Like the Death Star? We all know how successful that was. Both times."

There was a small smattering of laughter, despite the seriousness of the situation. Despite himself, he found a smile tugging at his lips at his mother's exasperated tone. She had deeply personal reasons for loathing the Death Star. Personal reasons that had continued to haunt her long after Alderaan's obliteration. It hadn't stopped her from seeing to it both space stations had been equally obliterated. Slowly his smile faded, as he returned his thoughts to Starkiller Base. When he'd left, they had still been dealing with the dangerous energy fluctuations of syphoning the nearby solar energy from the neighboring suns they found fit to test it on. They hadn't even finished the rocket boosters in which to actually move the entire planet. But it seemed in the time since his departure, Hux had been determined to move the project along.

And he hadn't been there to slow them down.

He found himself suddenly aware that he knew more than any of them. No matter what the Resistance might have uncovered, they had among them one of the most valuable resources they could ever have hoped for.

After all, he knew ALL the secrets of that base. Intimately.

"From all reports…" Captain Wexley was saying, "It's bigger than the Death Star. Both of them." he corrected quickly at an arched eyebrow from the General. "We weren't able to get close, they had dozens of squadrons of TIEs patrolling a tight perimeter far beyond view of the thing. Since we couldn't get near, Poe Dameron did a solo mission to try and retrieve more…" He trailed off, glancing down to BB8, hope still visible in his gaze.

The droid beeped dejectedly, and 3PO translated in a quiet voice. "I'm afraid BB8 says that information was not given to him. His master did not have the time to upload the data chip into his memory banks."

"No matter. Something that big can't move fast."

"Admiral Satura, the mistakes that the Empire made might still be forefront in their mind," General Organa said firmly, leaning forward. "We may not have much to go on, but if we don't get our fighters out there to have a closer look, we may never get a chance to mount a stand against it. We need intel. We must find it's weaknesses."

"Um, my friend probably knows. He defected from the Order."

And just like that, poor, sweet, innocent Rey had started the countdown to disaster.

He felt his blood freeze. Even knowing it was coming, he couldn't help the sudden vice that gripped his chest followed by an icy clutch at his heart as every single pair of eyes in the room shifted to stare directly at him, following Rey's introductory point of a finger.

For a moment, his concentration wavered as his discomfort overtook his mask of calm. It was brief, but it proved enough as the brush of familiar feelings invaded his mind for just a moment.

His mother's eyes widened in utter shock.

The datapad in General Organa's hands clattered to the ground, shattering in the sudden silence that filled the room, as one strangled gasp escaped her mouth before she could stop herself. "...Ben!"

The silence was deafening. No one moved, no one dared breathe. Confusion danced around the room as heads turned, craning to try and see who she was staring at.

Few others made the connection. Two did.

He felt the fear radiating from the center of the room where Admiral Satura stood rigid and Captain Wexley's eyes widened more with each passing moment. But his own attention was focused on the raw look of anguish and hope that had practically exploded from his mother as her gaze held his for what seemed like an eternity.

In that single span of a heartbeat, more was said in silence than ever could be spoken.

"Holy sh…"

His composure crumbled as the silence was broken. No matter how much he had told himself he knew this was coming, he still found himself inevitably unprepared. Staring at his mother's startled eyes broke something in him, and he found a part of himself trembling, curling away from this confrontation.

 _Just like your father. Coward._ But the whisper was ignored.

Taking advantage of the confused distraction in the room, he turned and with a firm silent swell of his mind, the men in the stairwell scrambled aside, not even sure why they were in such a hurry to do so to allow him to vanish up the stairs. Before anyone could react, he was gone.

* * *

The room erupted into chaos.

Leia took a half-step forward, only to have a tight firm hand snatch her arm from either side, preventing her from following him, despite the swarm of men reaching for their blasters. "General!" Admiral Satura hissed, tone urgent. "No! You can't!"

Rey stared back over her shoulder, eyes narrow in confusion, not sure what had just happened, backing up as she was jostled by the alarmed crowd surging forward.

"You! You! Follow him! Use any means necessary to…"

"No!" Leia's voice was firm, but with a desperate edge that gave the resistance fighters preparing to obey their Admiral's command pause as they had begun to head towards the exit.

"General! We can't let him…"

"No, Admiral." Her voice was no longer shaking, though her eyes shone moist in the harsh artificial lights. "Think about it. We would not be standing here to discuss this."

"General…" Captain Wexley urged, grip tight on his blaster as he stepped in front of her, expression intense, fear written on his face.

"Not a word." Her hand lifted firmly, eyes sharp. "Both of you. Watch him on your scanners, track his movements, but no one is to approach him, do I make myself clear? What damage is done has been done. Do what you must to ensure the security of this base, but do not follow him." She turned her face to the Admiral, once again a mask of command in place. "Let me talk with him first. You know what would happen if word got out. For his sake, for ours, we must not allow that. Please, Admiral. Consider what is riding on all of this. The Order is hunting him, just as we have been. If he wanted to damage us, there are other ways he could have gone about it. Instead, he walked in here on his own, wearing his own face. He was full aware I would recognize him. Yet he did it anyway. Think on that for a moment and tell me you still believe him here for ill intent."

It was with great reluctance that Satura slowly relented. His respect and trust for General Organa outweighed everything else. "General. I am not sure you are impartial in this matter." His gaze swept over to Wexley, who nodded tersely at the unspoken command. "But… I can't deny the implications." He straightened, expression dark. "He is not to leave. If he steps out of line, even a little…"

"I won't permit that to happen." Leia's voice was quiet, firm. "Thank you Admiral, for giving him a chance."

"It's not HIM I'm being lenient for." Satura said darkly. "If I did not respect you as I do, General Organa, I would not even be considering this. Do you honestly think you can control him if things get out of hand?"

"Do you think your men would have any more luck than I?"

Satura's jaw flexed, frustration in his eyes as silent acknowledgement met with firm resolve. "I won't allow him in the base. He stays topside. Under watch at all times. If he tries to leave, I will order my men to act. We will block any and all communications from that ship."

"He won't leave." Her voice was quiet, distant suddenly, her eyes somewhere else. "He's not here for me, or for any of us…" Her eyes lifted, and fell upon Rey. "He's here for her."

Rey blinked, suddenly highly uncomfortable with their attention turned to her. Her eyes darted warily towards the exit, as if she desired nothing more than to take flight after her traveling companion. But her confusion kept her held fast where she stood, swallowing hard at the sudden warmth she saw directed her way. "...what just happened?"

A gentle pair of hands settled on Rey's shoulders as she was suddenly drawn into a tight fierce hug. Startled, she glanced at the Admiral and Captain, both who were staring at her with no small amount of wariness and hostility before glancing down at the older woman who stood a few inches shorter than her. "Thank you…" Leia whispered, placing a hand gently on Rey's head, bringing it close so she could place a kiss on the young woman's cheek. "...for bringing my son home."

* * *

Note: Thank you again, all who have left kudos and comments! I appreciate and enjoy reading your feedback!

Now starts the meat of the story as we begin to diverge away from true cannon slightly. Get ready for one wild ride, with a bit of adventure, angst, and humor along the way!

Next Chapter: The Boy


	6. Chapter 6: The Boy

How long had it been since he had actually laughed? He was dizzy at the thought. Honest, real laughter, not the cold menacing sneer of Kylo Ren's victory over his enemies.

He liked it.

* * *

Chapter 6: The Boy

He felt them watching him, like distant hawks circling their prey. Or, perhaps the more appropriate analogy was nervous mice avoiding the gaze of the raptor. None of them had dared follow him to where he now stood in the dwindling setting sunlight, one boot braced against a granite rock at the edge of the cliff overlooking the planet's deep vast network of canyons that fell away beneath the base's plateau. The wind whipped his hair around his face like rope stinging his cheeks, but his focus was far distant, lost in the flickers of sunlight that refused to abandon their hold to the oncoming night's grasp.

He had run away. Again.

 _Just like your father._

A raw snarl left his throat and with a vicious punch, his fist impacted the granite boulder next to him, a loud 'crack' indicating something had broken. But with the rage boiling within, he had no idea if it was the rock, or his fist.

 _Stupid. Stupid!_

His thoughts raced wildly in his head, heat pooling up at his fingertips, spreading into the rock beneath his hand, spiderwebs snaking across it's surface spreading across the cracks, snapping and breaking until the rock crumbled and toppled over, falling into the encompassing blackness of the cliff at his feet.

But it was not Rey his fury was directed at.

Had he wanted to come here? Possibly, deep down, that was the only explanation. Why would he have allowed all of this to shape his path if he hadn't somehow wanted to reunite with that part of himself he'd kept shackled deep down within for so long. The last year had seen him going from channeling his rage and locking Kylo Ren away, to slowly piece by piece allowing Ben Solo to return, if reluctantly at the hands of a certain scavenger's influence.

 _Rey…_

He wasn't angry at her. How could he be? She was right. He knew the answers to everything. To the base, to the Order's plans, to her past… It was all there, right below the surface, laughing at his pain, mocking him.

She was the conduit for everything that had happened to him. It all revolved around her.

The anger flickered out, replaced by a sudden weight of desolation. No matter what happened next, he could not see any path that did not lead to the inevitable dread he had been avoiding for so long. Honestly, he was surprised there weren't blasters following him over the edge of the cliff. His eyes focused on the inky blackness beneath his feet, stretching out like fingers, spreading to every corner of the canyons as the last night of day faded from the setting sun as it sunk below the horizon.

It would not be long before they would come and take him. And then, he would have to confront Rey with the truth, reveal the monster he had so carefully hidden away from her.

He fully intended to do just that, despite the fact he knew it would be his ruin.

And then there was his mother.

He felt her presence before he heard her approach.

She didn't say a word, stopping instead slightly behind him, giving him his space. He could feel the turmoil within him disturb her, likewise he could sense her desperation, her desire, her need to reach out to him, touch him, ensure he was real, that he was honestly here. Reading feelings had always been so easy for him. He was like a wildfire, raw and powerful, unstoppable and unrestrained, and his own feelings followed suit. He had never mastered control. What little he had took immense focus and effort, and broke at the smallest drop of his concentration. It's why he had failed so miserably time and again when his uncle had continued to preach patience. He had none with which to restrain his feelings.

Perhaps that's why the silence was so stifling, and he decided to break it first. "He's not here."

"No." He never had to clarify with his mother, she always knew what he was talking about. "...I almost thought you were him, for a moment, standing there like that. You look just like him."

He felt a light brush at his sleeve, and felt a warm pressure leaning against his side, a hand clasping his arm. He was surprised that he didn't tense, and permitted her embrace to encircle him from behind.

"He would be furious. You're wearing his favorite vest."

A faint twitch of his lips faded quickly. "His fault for leaving it behind with his ship."

Her head turned, eyes falling on the dim outline of the Falcon, and he felt her laugh start up, small and weak at first, but then warm and almost tearful. He felt moisture seep through the fabric of his father's shirt, and was surprised when he shifted slightly, and she fell into his arms, embracing him, face leaning against his chest. "Please… do me a favor Ben… Never let him live this one down. Ever."

He couldn't help it. His throat tickled, and before he knew it, he was laughing with her. It sounded hollow, weak and empty, but it felt oddly good, warmth spreading in the cold pit of nausea nestled in his stomach, easing his anxiety as he held his mother close, arms tightening slightly around her as the familiar scent of spice and perfume drifted up from her hair. His eyes slipped shut, and for a moment, he let everything slip away, delving into the familiar comfort of holding his mother close… memories of his childhood sweeping him into a net of nostalgia. How long had it been since he had actually laughed? He was dizzy at the thought. Honest, real laughter, not the cold menacing sneer of Kylo Ren's victory over his enemies.

He liked it.

They stood there in another stretch of silence, watching the stars spread across the sky above them, the wind slowly dying down as night settled in. Somehow, he felt at peace like this. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed this sensation, touching someone, holding someone, despite all the horrors her son had committed, she still loved him. A mother's love, always unconditional. No words had to be said, not that he could have formed any in that moment anyway.

She broke the silence first this time, slowly pushing up from his chest, lifting her head to peer up into the shadows of his face, deep brown eyes achingly so like his own. "Why did you leave?"

And there it was.

He knew she didn't even understand that that simple question was far more complicated than it sounded.

His eyes slipped shut, and he found himself tilting his face skywards, the cool air refreshing his skin, his mother's warm presence a solid comfort against his chest as he held her close.

That single question had haunted him from the straits of Ryloth to the sands of Jakku. The one question everyone wanted to know. Why had Kylo Ren turned his back on the First Order and left it all behind?

But somehow, he also felt she was asking him something deeper.

Why had he left her, left his family, left everything he was?

An empty void of darkness was the only answer to that second question, silence and loneliness gripping him from within. However, the first question elicited a far sharper response.

 _Fire, death, screams, pain._

The images assaulted him suddenly, just as powerful as they had the day he had first witnessed them, kneeling at the Supreme Commander's feet. Fear and desolation gripped him as he could not hold them back from overwhelming him, his grip tightening around his mother, holding her close as his breath caught.

 _A dark void, red light shining down on him, brightness from below. The face of his father. Tears. Desperation. Death._

 _Soft blue light, snow, blood. Fear thick around him, choking him, driving him forward towards fearful green eyes. Death._

 _Tears, whispered pleas, feather-light touches on his skin. His mother's startled tear-stained face. Death._

 _A flash of green, betrayal. The shadowed visage of the Last Jedi contorted in shock. Death._

 _A dark room, a cold voice, mocking, laughing, pain slamming into his mind, the twisted terrible face of an angel of darkness as his own lightsaber pierced his chest. Death._

 _This time, his own._

He felt her arms around him tighten, as his eyes opened, tears stinging his vision, blurring it as he tried to pull free of the fountain of darkness weighting him down. Everyone he cared for, murdered by his own hand. Everything he was, slaughtered at his command. But yet, something told him he had been dead within himself long before that moment in his vision. Every action he had taken, placing him one step closer until he had been lost long before his saber had found his father's heart.

He had FELT his own death that day, as certain as if it were real. As if it might have been real in another life. Just as the lives of the ones he had taken had felt just as real. His father, his mother and…

 _Rey…_

At the time, he had not known it was she in his vision. But now, he knew it could be no other.

Snoke had just laughed, cold, calculating, cruel.

" _This will make you strong, Kylo Ren. For you are the sword of justice in the galaxy. You are the last of the Skywalker legacy, the product of pure power. The light, the darkness, you wield both as your sword. You alone will purge this galaxy of it's imperfections. The Jedi and the Sith will be no more."_

But how could he do this, if he were dead?

Snoke had not given him that vision. No, he had been presenting an order, an ultimatum. " _Kill the boy. Become the man. Your final task towards completing your training… Kill… Han… Solo…"_

He had remembered feeling shock at the order, and lifting his gaze to stare at Snoke. But then, as he had been about to respond, the deep sense of dread and awe rushing his mind, his gaze had been drawn to something else… something shining in the blue light that surrounded the gruesome holographic monster, something softer, sadder, familiar…

Snoke had not noticed. For all his power and wisdom, even he had not sensed the presence of the one being in the entire galaxy that Kylo Ren would have listened to other than himself.

The one being who had the power to sway his only grandson from the same path he had traveled down.

A soft hand touched his cheek, and his gaze refocused back on his mother's face, blurred through his tears as she brushed them away. "Ben? What happened?" She asked again, soft voice pleading with him to speak. "Why did you leave Snoke?"

"...because I saw who I would become," he whispered faintly, aware his voice was trembling as he held her gaze, his eyes haunted. "And I was afraid."

Why had Kylo Ren left Snoke, turned away from everything that the First Order stood for?

 _Because Darth Vader told him to._

His mother's hand was warm against his chest, and he took comfort in that as his breath drew in slowly, his trembling fading as he felt her presence swell with pride and compassion. "You chose to leave?"

"I did." He agreed quietly.

"Are you going back?"

"Never." He said that word with finality. He would never return. Not to serve. He refused to become that dark shadow of a person who had slaughtered his own kin. Already he had caused enough suffering, killed enough people. The final straw had come when faced with the reality that if he continued along the path he had been following, nothing but darkness would follow. No glory, no belonging, no honor. All the things he had sought for, thinking that leaving the Jedi, thinking turning away from his parents, his family would bring him… it would not.

He would not become the monster. He would control the monster.

In that moment, Ben Solo drew himself up straighter, and his trembling stopped.

He had never felt so strong.

It might have just been his imagination, but though his eyes spotted no other presence near them, there was a sudden sensation of approval that flooded through him, invisible, supportive and warm.

His mother was smiling up at him, her own emotions just as rich, support radiating off of her along with pride. "Ben…" her hand touched his cheek, and he felt obliged to allow her to stroke his cheekbone fondly, his own hand catching the one against his chest, holding it there. "I'm so proud of you. You did this on your own. I always knew there was hope, that you hadn't given in completely to the darkness."

"How could you be so sure?" he murmured, gazing down at her. "I never was."

The smile she gave him was somehow heartbreaking in a way, loving in another. "Because you are my son. And I love you. That's what it means to be a mother."

He shut his eyes, a slow breath escaping his chest. "I'm not the same. You know that."

"Yes, I know that."

"You know what I have done."

"I do know."

"And you still want me to stay?"

"I would never wish for anything else." Her embrace tightened as she slipped her arms around him again, and he wrapped his strong arms around her back, basking in the feeling that he had not experienced since he was a boy, her comfort and presence soothing the tattered edges of his sanity.

"Will you help us?"

Instead of answering, he closed his eyes, and let out a slow shaky breath, releasing his hold on the roiling emotions he was attempting to contain behind his trembling mental walls. He felt her touch his mind, and he guided her untrained thoughts, showing her his intentions, his desires. He would not betray her, not this time. He held no loyalty to the Order, only contempt and a deep-seeded loathing for Snoke, the desire to uproot him and vanquish the monster who had haunted him since he was a boy. He would aid them however he could. If it meant putting an end to the terror and torment that plagued not only himself, but the rest of the galaxy, he would do whatever it took.

 _And Rey…_ he felt his mother brush against the tightly confused knot of emotions that encircled the scavenger's presence, and he sensed her approval, her warmth, her support as she understood instantly the conflict within.

These were his first steps along a long, dark and difficult road that might not have an end. But he was determined to travel it nonetheless.

A soft sigh greeted his ears, and he felt her embrace tighten as her mind disconnected from his. "Thank you Ben…" she murmured, gratitude and hope radiating off of her like a beacon.

"Do they know?" he asked quietly, slowly roping in his emotions, allowing his walls to fall back into place, familiar and comforting as he struggled to regain his composure once more. Reality still had to play a part. And despite his mother's forgiveness, the rest of the Resistance would not be so quick to welcome Kylo Ren into their midst.

"Satura and Wexley do," she slowly untangled her arms from his torso, though her hands rested lightly on the fabric of his vest, unwilling to retreat, as if he might somehow vanish if she let him go. "A few of the other Admirals as well. I asked they not say anything. To everyone else, you are simply my son. They do not know the circumstances."

His eyes flickered, an eyebrow lifting in disbelief. "And will they keep silent? Especially knowing who I am?"

"I trust them." She smiled slightly. "They won't trust you, that much I can guarantee. But they agreed to keep your identity quiet for now. I impressed upon them the chaos of everyone knowing would probably be worse than keeping an eye on you from a distance." She tilted her head up to stare directly into his eyes, a touch of pain reflecting up at him. "Besides. We both know what the outcome would be."

It hurt, even though it was the truth. Hurt to see the fear still reflected back at him from his mother's eyes, knowing the devastation and danger he represented. One man against an entire base. Normally that might have been an impressive feat. But Kylo Ren had earned the respect and fear necessary to make it no challenge to walk out of the base unharmed. While he may have made his choice on the path he tred, it was still a dangerous one, prone to allowing the monster to return if poked with a very large stick. He would be left standing in another sea of bodies, felled by the very blade that his mother's hand was pressed against, hidden in his vest.

She had noticed its presence, recognition washing over her face as she realized what her hand was pressed against.

Slowly, he reached into the pocket, drawing his lightsaber out.

It's dark metal gleamed with a sinister glint in the moonlight, the scarred surface seeming all the more imperfect under her sharp scrutiny.

He allowed her to take it from him, slender fingers running over the deep scores in the hilt, feeling the heavy weight, turning it over. She didn't ask why he had it still, somehow he felt she knew. Watching her hold his weapon felt strange, as if he were placing a piece of himself in her hands, vulnerable, too trusting.

This was the blade that had felled innocents, a blade as wild and untamed as him, broken as he was. All she had to do was ignite it and strike him down, and the galaxy would not mourn.

But she could never do such a thing. Which is why he entrusted it to her, despite his vulnerability.

He could see the disgust in her eyes as she studied the weapon he had built with his own hands. She had never been comfortable around the Force, even around her brother. When Luke had demonstrated his power, she had always shied away from it. He had asked his uncle once why it was that his mother feared power she herself had within. Luke had told him, it was because she had firsthand experience of how that power could lead to devastation. She had watched Darth Vader destroy everything and everyone she had cared for, to then later only learn it had been her own father tormenting her, though neither had known it at the time. That knowledge had shaken her, and Leia had staunchly refused to accept any training her brother had offered, despite knowing the power was inherently neither good nor evil. And when her only son had started manifesting the same power, it only brought forth more fear from the woman Ben had only ever seen as strong and unbending.

Everyone feared something. No one was completely fearless. To be fearless was to be branded a fool, for you thought yourself impervious to weakness.

 _So then, what does Snoke fear? For he is no fool._

Leia's slender fingers ran over the scored surface of his lightsaber, as if needing time to acknowledge that this single icon of power, of destruction, of death was nothing more than metal and power cells. She regarded it for a moment, then held it back out to him, eyes somber. "I can't help you with this Ben. I regret that I never could." Her voice was thick with emotion, the weight of truth echoing in her words. She did regret not being there to help her son struggle to find understanding with the tumult of powers that he had been gifted with. In that moment, he felt her regret that she had sought to turn away from the Force, ignore it's presence in herself, in her family. "But know one thing. Until you are ready to cast this aside, know that you can always come to me without fear of judgement. You are my son, before all else. I will always be here for you."

He said nothing, and with a slight pause, took the weapon back slowly, staring down at it with a torn look. He wanted to cast it aside, more than anything. He nearly had the chance on Takodana, but somehow Fate had decided that it should be up to him, not to chance, and the weapon had followed him. And so, he took it, slipping it safely back into his pocket, securing it from view. Then, he reached into the other pocket, removing the second saber, and holding it out, palm up, before his mother. Her breath caught, instant recognition hitting her as she stared at the weapon. He didn't question how she knew the difference from one lightsaber to the next. Most looked alike. However, this one carried weight with it's presence. She knew, as well as he, who had wielded it. "...this is…" she lifted her gaze sharply. "How did you get it?"

"Maz Kanata gave it to me." He said quietly. "It called to Rey."

Leia's eyes shot open wide. Fingers slightly curling around her brother's lightsaber, she stared at it, suddenly understanding. "She can sense the Force."

"She can now." He agreed quietly. "Her power was hidden from her. She awoke when the lightsaber called to her."

Leia's gaze lifted, studying her son's face closely. "Does she know why?" He could read the unspoken question on her face. _Do you?_

"No. She knows what she feels. I… explained a few things to her." The slow arch of an eyebrow caused his face to suddenly heat. "...I couldn't explain everything. I didn't know how."

A slow understanding smile crossed his mother's face, and the lightsaber was pushed back into his hand as hers closed over his. "You will find a way. But Ben… don't let her hear from someone else." Her eyes were pleading. "Trust me. She needs to hear the truth from you."

He wasn't so sure. The doubt and hesitation lay thick about him as he stared at the weapon. He could feel his uncle's presence lingering within it, whispering to him, reminding him of his pledge, reminding him of his failure. He only realized he was trembling when his mother's grip tightened over his, stilling his hand. With great effort, he separated himself from her, sliding the item of his conflict back into his vest, taking a step back from her, deep breath filling his lungs with cold air that left frost escaping his lips.

"Come. Nights are cold on this planet." she said, taking his arm and steering him away from the cliff, back towards the Falcon. "There is much we need to go over."

"...what of everyone else?"

Ah, and therein was the complication. The fact no one had come rushing to arrest him yet was already a stretch of disbelief in his mind. He honestly did not think that his mother would be capable of convincing them to actually welcome Kylo Ren into the folds of the Resistance, no matter that his knowledge could be exceptionally helpful to their cause. He had killed too many, caused too much destruction, fought them all.

Her lips pressed together. "I'll do what I can, Ben. No matter what we say, they will have opinions on the matter. But your knowledge and experience is invaluable, especially when it comes to intel on the Order. I think I can convince them to at least allow you to offer what you can. What they do after that…" She trailed off, and he knew what she was thinking.

She alone was not powerful enough to stay the command for his execution, if it came down to it.

"They already know if you were here to cause trouble, you would have. I think the fact you've been on the run for a year, that they know the Order is hunting you… It helps." her gaze lifted to regard him quietly. "But… you've done terrible things in the name of the Order."

"I know."

"I think they're well aware no cell can hold you. And putting you in one would only raise questions from the rest who don't know your identity. They've agreed to let you stay on the Falcon for now, providing you don't attempt to leave."

"I won't."

"And for the love of the Force, Ben…" her hand found his cheek as her eyes pleaded with him. "...don't give them ANY excuse to want to change their mind. We both know what will happen."

 _The fact I haven't slaughtered them already should actually mean something… Kriff I need a drink._ Why was it he kept craving things that made him lose control as of late? Bad things tended to happen when one gave an alcoholic beverage to a force-weidling, short tempered man with a lightsaber.

Still…. All his misgivings, all his fears, all his dire thoughts of instant execution seemed to have been staved off for now.

He was just going to have to face Rey.

 _I almost wish they had executed me on sight..._

* * *

Note:

Yes, Ben. Women always find out the truth. Always.

Once more, thank you for reading and leaving comments and kudos. I apologize this chapter was shorter, but being how packed with emotion it was, I felt I needed to focus on only the one scene rather than jam anything else into it. Don't worry, the action starts to pick up.

A note, my schedule changed so I may be slightly longer than a week until posting the next one, as my 'weekend' moved to the middle of the week now. It'll be worth it.

Next Chapter: The Truth.


	7. Chapter 7: The Truth

Her hands were shaking against his, still gripping his lightsaber so tightly her knuckles were bloodless. Slowly, he released her hand, feeling suddenly weak and sick from the exertion, but also slightly freed.

At last, she knew.

"It was you…" Her voice was hoarse, torn between horrified and repulsed, also a tinge of betrayal and hurt echoing in those three words. "...this whole time you knew…"

* * *

Chapter 7: The Truth

It felt like the tension would snap at any moment.

All around him, he could sense the fear, sense the dread coming from the pilots as they prepped their X-wings, sense the foreboding as his mother spoke with the Resistance leaders, providing the intel he had gone over with her until late into the night.

Rey had avoided him.

He couldn't blame her. He had, after all, lied to her.

 _Ah, but you lied about much more than your true name…_

He grimaced, running a hand through his dark hair, staring blankly at the bulkhead over his bunk as he lay there, turning over his own thoughts, analyzing them. His mother would not tell Rey more than what the girl had already uncovered, that his name was Ben Solo, and that he was the son of a Rebellion war hero, and a Princess. The question as to how he had ended up with the Order, why he had left his family, why he had become a mercenary, those were questions that were being left to him to answer.

And rightly so.

But he really dreaded that moment.

Oddly, following the reunion with his mother, he found much of the turmoil that he had held within seemed subdued. It felt… good.

For the first time in ages, he had been able to finally sleep restfully, dreamlessly, waking refreshed. He found the constant ebb of power he partitioned into his thoughts to maintain his mental shields less trying, found his outlook much improved. If the Resistance had been intending to take him captive, execute him, they would have done so already. As it was, his mother's strong presence and powerful skill at convincing entire governments to heed her words was playing a large part in staying his fate.

He supposed it was a good thing so few in the galaxy knew that the fallen son of General Organa and Han Solo was actually Kylo Ren. His birth name had been forbidden to all in the Order, save Snoke and Hux. Even his knights had never seen his face or known his true name. Similarly, it seemed the knowledge of who Kylo Ren was had been kept from all except those who knew the emotional vulnerability the General would be subjected to when the topic came up.

He was her weakness… And his family was his.

 _No, it is strength. What you think of weakness is only a vulnerability._

His thoughts drifted back to his uncle. Everyone was searching for him. He hadn't considered what had happened to the Jedi Master after… the incident six years ago.

He supposed Luke was in self-imposed isolation. But… He frowned, as a tickle of memories tugged at him, trying to break free from a thick fog within his mind. There was something about his disappearance that was important. Something Ben had forgotten. Something that connected to him. It wasn't the obvious. He knew that. The attack on the jedi academy was deeply seeded in his mind, a painful stark reminder of his own weakness, of the monster who had claimed control and been unleashed, born in that moment.

It was something else. Something elusive… Ominous.

 _I need to clear my mind._

He sighed, shaking his head as he slowly rose to his feet, making his way to the empty cargo bay of the Falcon's port quarter. It was as good a space as any to practice, smaller than he'd have liked, but adequate. Rather than use his lightsaber, he had chosen a firm metal rod he'd ripped from a broken support strut. No sense taking undue risks. Anyone could wander up the ramp and intrude on his practice session. And as focused as he became while lost in his routine, the last thing he wanted was someone shooting him.

He methodically slipped into his training, lunging, striking, practicing his stance, feeling his body warm and his breath quicken as his muscles remembered the familiar motions. It was as familiar and comforting to allow his mind to slip away, consumed by what his body knew by heart. It allowed him some grace and fluidity, over the multitude of stumbles he'd been making over the last few days. He deftly recited each form in his mind, executing them all with practiced precision, focus wrapping his mind within itself, all other thoughts pushed aside, intent on losing himself within the routine. His breath came swift, practiced and even as he moved through each form, disconnected from the flow of time, sweat dappling his brow, darkening his shirt, hair damp against his head as he swept the rod down, balancing expertly in a crouch, before twisting up on his heel, rod sweeping the air and whistling with the force he brought with it as it swept up, striking at an invisible foe.

It was only then, as he whirled around, thrusting forward with a precise snap of his arms, that he noticed Rey standing in the doorway.

His whole body tensed, coiling tightly like a serpent about to strike, his breath sharply catching, aware of the sheen of sweat covering his brow which was plastering his hair down in his eyes. Rey's gaze was steady, bold, though he did notice there was a splash of color in her cheeks.

 _Just how long were you standing there watching me, Rey?_

"So should I call you Ben now, or is it still Ren?"

He slowly straightened, coming out of the posture that he had frozen in, holding her fierce gaze.

 _Oh yes. She's not happy with me._

He watched her for a moment, then turned, placing the rod atop one of the old tarp-covered empty crates, taking a piece of the cloth, wiping the sweat from his face. "Whatever makes you comfortable," he finally replied quietly, turning back to face her, aware her eyes had narrowed fiercely at his answer.

They stood in silence, facing one another for what felt like an eternity.

Rey moved first. She approached the crate where he'd set the pipe down then tossed it back at him, sliding her staff around from where it had been strapped to her back, pulling it out before her. "Spar with me." Her tone was bold, challenging.

He blinked, catching the bar deftly without looking at it. Something told him she had her own frustrations to take out… preferably on him. "Are you certain?"

"I see the way you move," she said slipping into a casual stance, staff at the ready. "I want to see if the son of a princess and a war hero is any good, or if he's just a half-witted nerf herder like his father."

His eyebrow arched sharply, but the faint ghost of a smile on Rey's face told him that phrase had not hit him by chance. Clearly, she had spoken with his mother. He did find it curious that she had left out the 'scruffy-looking' part of that outburst. His father never did let his mother forget that.

The look she directed at him suddenly hardened. "Besides, I'm still pissed that you lied to me, though stars knows WHY you thought it'd matter."

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, well… I feel like beating the crap out of you, so spar with me."

"Very well," he agreed, slightly bemused as he stepped into the center of the room, taking a wide firm central stance, facing her. It was highly unlikely any crap would be beaten out of him today. But he wasn't about to argue the semantics of it to her.

 _Besides letting her win a few rounds might soften the blow of the REST of the lies you kept from her._

It had been some time since he had sparred with an opponent. The mercenaries had learned quickly that they were no match for his quick reflexes and uncanny ability to predict their moves. However, while Rey had no formal training, she had her instincts and her speed… she was faster than him, by far. This would be an interesting fight. He found himself suddenly very eager to appraise her skills.

She began to circle him and he let her do so, slowly pacing around to continuously face her as she moved. He kept his balance centered, always watching, senses alert and feet moving fluidly. She lunged at him with the staff, and he twisted away with only one step, knocking it aside with a deft blow of the pipe. She blinked, but lunged again, this time lower. He countered with a sweep of his ankle, catching the staff, tossing it back at her.

They continued this way, testing each other, for a good several minutes, before he decided it was time for his move. When she next thrust at him, he caught the staff, pulled and brought her flush to his chest, the pipe end pressed to the base of her skull behind her back.

"Too predictable."

She stared up at him, eyes wide in surprise at the movement, not having expected to be drawn in the way he had pulled her.

"You're moving as if you're training. Stop trying to hit me, and hit me."

He released her, and she jerked back, scowling. She came at him again, this time with more fire, swinging wide with the staff, but at the last minute, putting more thrust into the bottom half as it went for his knee. Again, he countered, bracing his arm against the staff, then bending his knee and sweeping his leg over the staff, locking it against his body, again drawing her in, much to her great displeasure.

"Better. But still thinking too basic. Stop thinking and feel. Open yourself up to how it feels to fight, how you feel when fighting, and react as you would defending yourself against someone trying to steal your haul for the day."

"I don't want to hurt you," she said bitterly, trying to pry the staff free, failing to do so at his firm stance locking it against his body.

"Don't worry about that," he said, offering her a tight smile. "Your opponents don't worry about hurting you, so why should you be concerned."

"You're not my enemy," she protested.

 _Ah, but I am, Rey._

"Exactly. Which is why you are holding back." He released the staff, letting her take a step back, and studied her. "I am going to attack you. Don't hold back this time." He didn't give her a second chance to prepare, raising the metal rod and lunging at her, straight for her shoulder.

She almost didn't doge in time, but at the last moment after overcoming her startelement, twisted away and countered, metal on metal ringing in the hull. What followed was a dance of sorts, elegant, raw and unpredictable. She countered his attacks, not having a chance to reciprocate, too focused on defending herself as he drove forward, blow after blow meeting her staff. A few blows landed on her unprotected skin making her cry out, but he was not putting much strength behind them, keeping the blows sharp and short. They would bruise, but no training came without a lesson. And it seemed to be pissing her off enough to encourage her ferocity more.

She came at him more determined, faster, more unpredictable, testing him. And soon, neither was on the offensive or defensive, instead trading blows, trading positions.

He was impressed. For someone with no training, she showed far more discipline than he had expected, each movement and blow had a purpose, if only to test him, distract him, or keep him occupied. He found himself fighting harder against her than he usually did, excited by the chance to fight someone worthy of testing himself.

But still, he was holding back, and when she managed to land a strike across his back, he reacted by twisting about, and catching her unprepared, pressing her up against the wall, locking her staff behind her, hands captive.

She blinked, face flushed, breath heaving from the exertion making her bosom rise and fall dramatically. His face was inches away from hers, sweat dripping down his cheeks, damp on the locks dangling in front of his face, her own hair plastered to her forehead, shining with moisture. His breath caught, staring down into her alluring eyes, nose inches away from hers, his brown eyes oddly lit by the artificial lamp shining on his face from the side, making their dark depths appear warm and earthy. He could feel the soft press of her skin against his hand, the swell of her hips pressed against his, the tickle of her warm breath on his cheek.

All it would take was a soft brush of his lips against hers… soft, pink lips that so often loved to defy him, challenge him. He longed to know what they felt like, longed to greet them with his own, for a chance to melt the slab of ice that had long since sufficed as his heart.

 _Gods, she's irresistible._

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew both of their attentions to the doorway with a sharp snap of their necks. "Sorry… the General asked for your presence in the briefing. It's in fifteen minutes." The messenger was quick to depart, obviously not comfortable with the scene he'd interrupted. His footsteps echoed down the ramp of the Falcon before fading from earshot, leaving the two of them alone again.

His brown eyes found her green, and he pushed away from her, feeling a swell of warmth to his face as he quickly straightened. "I'd best clean up…" he muttered.

"Yeah…" Rey agreed, not looking at him. She quickly turned, heading towards the exit, but paused on her way out, glancing back at him. "...not bad… for a nerf-herder."

He couldn't help but smirk as she left.

They both made the briefing room at the same time, though they had each visited a fresher first in order to purge themselves of the fallout from their training session. He had been shadowed by the two sentries ordered to keep an eye on him, abandoning his blaster back in the Falcon out of an abundance of caution. Though the weight of his lightsaber remained a constant presence in his vest, he had done his best to appear as innocuous as he could, if only to ease their minds. No sense asking for trouble by brandishing a weapon. He was a weapon enough on his own. He exchanged a quick glance with Rey, which was quickly avoided as they sought any other place to study, rather than each other.

Fortunately they didn't have long to wait, the General arrived with Admiral Sutura, Captain Wexley, Admiral Akbar, and a few others he did not know by sight. From the way they stared at him, he knew this was going to be an interesting meeting. Within moments, the door was bolted, guarded from the outside and the room fell into silence as all eyes settled on him.

"Ben," his mother's soft voice accompanied the hostile stares directed his way from the others. She wore the practiced face of a diplomat, a General. "I have gone over the situation with everyone. They have agreed to hear what you have to say. Whatever you can provide will be extremely valuable."

He stared at the table, face a tight expressionless mask, never having felt so cornered. Nonetheless, he rose from his seat, aware everyone tensing, hands twitching instinctively trying to reach weapons before they stopped themselves. He allowed his gaze to sweep broadly about the room, eyes intense, watching each of them flinch as he met their eyes in turn, a part of him enjoying watching them squirm under his presence. His gaze alit upon Rey, and a flood of guilt crested his mind.

She was the only one in the room who did not know the truth. Part of him recoiled at the thought, ashamed.

The rest of them knew, it was evident from the way they stared at him.

He idly wondered if anyone was EVER going to arrest him.

Here they had one of their top enemies in their midst, and they were welcoming him in as if he belonged there. It didn't feel right. It felt like a shoe was waiting to drop.

But then, the desperation in the air seemed to speak for itself.

 _They are afraid of you. Afraid of what you will do. But they need you. They know the stakes are impossible unless they ask for your help._

Tearing his gaze back to the center console, he slid in a datachip he had prepared and punched the holo display.

The image of a planet expanded into full view of the room. But it was no ordinary planet. A deep ring of metal with an ominous iris was set into the core, like an evil eye watching the galaxy. He heard multiple breaths suck in sharply around him, and all eyes riveted to the image, away from him as he began to speak, deep voice quiet. "They have named it Starkiller Base. It is a planet terraformed into a weapon. It is approximately ten times the size of the second Death Star, and it's power ultimately more destructive."

"Stars… how can anything be MORE destructive than the Death Star?" Wexley muttered, frowning at the enormous image of the planet. "It could blow up an entire planet."

"This one can eliminate an entire system from a full sector away." The silence in the room was deafening, as horror and raw fear rippled around the attendees. There literally was no words to describe such a monstrosity, and no one dared look away. He had forgotten how horrendous such a thing could be, he realized as he glanced between their faces.

 _How can I have ever just ignored such a thing? Though it was Hux's creation, I did not interfere…_ Inaction was nearly as bad as giving consent. It was, after all, built for only one thing. Mass murder. There could be no other purpose.

Disgust washed through him, and he scowled.

 _Ah, but you are standing against it now. That means something._

He commanded his mental voices to be silent. "It is powered by dark energy, and solar radiation from the suns that it stops by to collect radiation from. It has the capability to completely drain a sun, store the energy for a full charge, then move on to the next system. It takes approximately a full day for an average sized sun to be completely drained, stored, and converted into useable weapons grade power. It can only hold one charge at a time between attacks, however the targeting system is top notch. Once the weapon fires, there is no defense."

"None?" Akbar broke out first, his gills fluttering nervously, despite the Mon Calamari's familiarity with being out of water much of his life.

"If it strikes a planet, it will not just destroy it, it will disintegrate it into nothing more than particles. It can strike any number of targets simultaneously within a 45 degree range within it's targeting zone. It will make Alderaan look like a testing site." He knew his words were like glass grinding into his mother's soul, and the pinched look of anguish on her face drove nails into his heart. But he had to scare them, had to make them aware of the consequences. "The First Order learned from the Empires' mistakes. There is no way to bring the shields down from the outside, there is no conduit to sneak into where you can detonate a missile and blow it up. This base is designed to be unbreachable."

"And you just HAPPEN to be here to help us find a way in."

All eyes turned to him, accusing and filled with loathing. He calmly held their gaze evenly and replied in a simple, even voice. "You cannot do it without inside help."

"And we should trust you…. Why? I mean, forgive me General, I know he's your son, but it seems VERY convenient that he shows up just now at the right moment to lead us to victory in our darkest hour. HIM of all people!" Captain Wexley's hand slammed down onto the console, his eyes narrow and furious as he stared across the room at the man he only saw as an enemy. "How do we know this isn't one massive trap?"

"Do you honestly think the First Order needs to use such tactics to gain the upper hand against you?" he replied quietly, his low voice commanding far more attention than the other man's outburst as they all hung on every word he had to say. "If I had not come, you would have been obliterated the moment they managed to make your top pilot crack under interrogation. For all we know he already has, and they are on their way here now."

"Or you lead them right to us!"

"Captain…" the exasperated tone of the General was trying to restore some semblance of calm.

"No, General…" Wexley continued, face red with rage. "No matter who he used to be, we can't let one of the First Order's most LOYAL subjects lead us right into our own destruction! If everyone knew…!"

"Knew what?" he snarled, feeling the last lingering thread of his temper start to stretch and thin and he leaned forward, eyes narrow. "Knew that one of their own had realized the depth of depravity and turned against them? Do you not think that would ignite a fire of others that just MIGHT hold similar views? There are those who fight merely because they have no other choice, or they know no better. Not all those you find fighting on the opposing side of a war are evil monsters, Captain."

"No, just you," was the dark response, Wexley's hand going to his blaster, hovering over it itching to draw. "You're a murdering bastard who's completely without redemption. You deserve to be thrown into the path of that weapon, a victim of your own participation in its creation."

"Captain!"

"You have no idea what I had to go through to leave the Order," he snarled, fists clenching the rim of the console, the glass creaking dangerously under his grip, an ominous rattling of glass and metal increasing around them at the swell of anger expanding out from the argument the was quickly consuming him. "You have no idea of the consequences that await you if you do not accept my aid in destroying this weapon now, before the Order has a chance to test it!" Rage was simmering there, just out of control, held back by a single thread, stretching thinner by the moment, begging to break. All it would take was one flick of his hand.

"Ben….!" His mother's desperate pleading could not temper his fury, despite her fingers digging tightly into his arm. He felt her warm presence pleading with him to calm down, stretching out her feelings to try and wrangle his own flailing emotions back into check. But it was too late. His fury was at the tipping point, screaming to be released. All it would take was the smallest of pushes. His fingers twitched, power surging forth, tingling as his hand clenched into a fist.

A quiet voice broke through to him. "Ben. Please…"

His eyes darted to the right and connected with the wide green tear-filled gaze of Rey staring up at him, fear in her eyes.

He took a deliberate slow breath, and let it out, shutting his eyes. The anger and hate slowly deflated, as he deliberately focused on the warm focal point before him, bright, comforting, stable. He felt her hand on his cheek, and instinctively his own returned the favor, finding tears which he brushed away with a light touch of his thumb.

All around him, the ten pairs of blasters slowly relaxed with faint clatter of metal triggers being slowly let go, held breaths releasing in tandem. He ignored it all, focused on Rey, and her alone. He had to do this. He could not lose control.

 _For her._

"I think… we need some air," he heard his mother murmur quietly. "Rey, take him outside, please."

He did not resist as he felt the gentle tug of her hand against his arm, following her down the hallway, past the guards, and out into the misty morning beyond. They walked in silence for quite some time, away from the base, away from all the prying eyes. The entire time he was lost in his thoughts, gaze distant, staring out at the swaying pine trees in the drifting mist, thinking just how close he had come to letting go and slaughtering everyone in that room.

So close…

One mistake, and he would have undone everything that he had done over the past year, the man he had struggled to forget was there, pacing feverishly behind the walls, preparing for war in his own mind.

 _And you should have let go. They are weak-willed fools, they have no idea of the power you wield, they have no respect for it. You could obliterate them all…_

"Ben…" He opened his eyes, not aware that he had begun trembling again. Rey was watching him, her eyes wide, fear still dancing around her, but taking second seat to the desire to understand what was going on, why he was so consumed in darkness. She had to have felt it this time, it was impossible for her not to have felt the Force thickly blanketed around him like a fog.

She was the single thing keeping him from falling into the endless abyss. Her touch was cool on his feverish face as she brought it up, brushing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. "Talk to me."

He lowered his head, shame swelling within him. He had put this off far too long. He had to tell her the truth. Everyone else knew, it was unfair to Rey that she did not even know the monster everyone saw in him. Even if it turned her away from him, even if it made him fall deeper into the void that was struggling to consume him once more, he knew it had to be done.

 _Even if it destroys me to do it._

Gently he took her hands, cupping them in his own larger ones, holding them together as he stared into her eyes, expression anguished and broken. "Rey… forgive me," The confusion in her eyes was painful to watch. "You have done so much for me, and you don't even realize it. Without you, I never would have come this far… but …" his voice broke. "...There is far more I have not told you."

He didn't let her speak, instead raising a hand to brush her lips gently with his thumb, eyes half-lidded as he leaned closer, then gently pushed his against hers. He felt her soft intake of breath, but she did not resist the kiss as their breaths mingled and he tasted the sweet touch of her skin against his. The world fell away as he lost himself in that single moment, the bright incandescent light that was Rey, all that she stood for, all that she was… his everything. He felt her return the favor, breath quick and excited, her emotions spiking with a fervor that mirrored his own.

This moment, in all it's glory, was what he wished to remember forever, even if he never got another like it. He would cherish it to his last moments.

He pulled away, but felt her resistance as he did so, their lips parting, her face flushed, eyes shining brightly as his mournful gaze held hers.

Then, ever so slowly, he slipped forward and knelt directly in front of her as a knight to his entrusted ward. Slowly, he took her hand with his, and slipped the weighted cold metal cross-hilt of his saber into her hand, closing her fist around the hilt, his hands wrapped around hers.

At first, there was only confusion as she stared down at the crossguard lightsaber in her hand. But then, slowly, he sensed her emotions go from confused to alarmed, followed by horror. He felt her go rigid, try to pull away, horror rippling around her as she made the connection.

As she realized who he was.

Terrified eyes wide and locked on his face, but he held her hand still, not releasing it as he lifted his gaze, and locked with her own. Gently, but forcefully, his mind reached out to hers, pressing forward despite the resistance he met, pushing against her unpracticed weak walls until he was in her mind, connected to her. He could see her fear, see how she saw him. Flashes of the dark stranger in the rain, menacing mask haunting her.

 _Monster. Murderer. Traitor_.

He acknowledged it, expression somber, his heart twisting painfully. But instead of denying it, he shut his eyes, and opened his mind to her, channeling what he wanted to show her. He could hear her ragged breathing, feel her try to pull away, but he did not let her go. He knew she would hate him, and he accepted this. It was his punishment, his fate, his destiny. But she had to know, had to see, had to understand.

 _Perhaps one day she will forgive me for doing the right thing too late._

He drew her into his mind, and laid forth the memories he wished to share.

 _A boy, young, alone, frightened by powers at his command he did not understand, surrounded by those who could not help, haunted by the nightmares, the whispers, the promise of greatness that he could have what he desired which he did not gain from his family. The thirst to embrace the power, use it. The frustration at those who tried to hold him back. The guilt, the desperation, the oath, the betrayal. The darkness consuming him, changing him, warping him into the creature in the mask, unrelenting, powerful, dangerous. The legacy of his grandfather, the power of his lineage, and the weakness of the light that burned within him. The realisation that even the greatest Sith Lord of all time had turned away from the darkness, the hope of redemption, the desperate need for forgiveness, the endless abyss of loneliness._

And just when he thought he might lose himself in his own thoughts, feeling her trembling, trying to pull away, trying to resist, trying to flee, he forced his memories to part and wrapped them both in a quiet prison of calm, everything falling away beneath them.

The scene rippled again as he focused, and suddenly Rey found herself in a far more tangible memory, and a far more familiar one, seen from the eyes of the one remembering it.

" _Quickly, take her!" a strangely familiar voice urged, staring at the trembling bundle in his arms. It was a young girl no older than four or five, hot, soaking wet and sobbing, fingers clinging tightly to his shoulder even in her unconscious state. An explosion of lightning erupted around them, exposing a field of bodies spread out on all sides, water pooling around mingling with blood at their boots. "Promise me, Ben."_

" _...I…." his voice was strangely young, broken, hoarse and strained. "...what am I to do with her?"_

" _Hide her. Protect her. Take her from this place. And when the time is right, tell her. Promise me!" An explosion of a blaster seared through the pouring rain, but was deflected by the sudden sweep of a bright green beam of light erupting from the weapon in the man's robotic right hand. "Go!"_

 _The scene distorted as he turned on heel, fleeing through the darkness, precious bundle cradled close as he whispered a hoarse answer beneath his breath. "...I promise."_

 _The scene dissolved as a great spray of water exploded from the ship landing before them, fading from endless blacks to a sea of white, as the ship's cargo bay door opened, revealing the open wastelands of sand spread out on all sides, the scowling face of Unkar Plutt glaring up as the small girl was gently lead down the ramp, gazing around with wide-eyed wonder, bouquet of flowers held tightly in her small hands._

 _A black-gloved hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned. "Rey…" A bright smile crossed her innocent face, eyes peering up trustfully to the one kneeling down beside her. "You must stay here."_

" _What? No!" Fear crossed her face. "I want to go with you, Ben!"_

" _Where I am going, you cannot follow, little one." A brush of gloved fingers to her face tore a loose strand of hair free and tucked it behind her ear. "I will return for you. I promise."_

" _...no!" She took a step forward towards him, but was stopped by a firm grip on her shoulder._

" _Quiet girl!" Unkar Plutt rumbled._

 _The fury and agony in her eyes burned with a wild ferocity that shook him. Intense focused waves of regret poured through the memory, as a hand outstretched towards her, fingers slightly curled. A shimmer of blue light danced between her forehead and the outstretched fingers tilted in her direction. Her head lifted, eyes going vacant suddenly. "I'm sorry Rey…." the broken voice whispered. He stole her memories, changed them, gentle as sand slipping through an hourglass. She went limp, eyes slipping shut, supported by the massive mitt of the junker. He rose slowly from his kneeling position, and the world shifted as a digital display replaced the vision of his own eyes, helmet hissing as the seals shut. Again his hand lifted, this time quicker, twitching just slightly as Unkar Plutt grunted, eyes vacant for a moment. "You will not remember my name, or my face. You will only know me as you do now. You will watch out for her. She will not be harmed, or you will answer to me. Do I make myself clear?"_

" _Yes, Lord Ren. Perfectly."_

" _You will report to me if ANYTHING changes."_

 _With a clipped turn of his heel, the gaping maw of the black shuttle swept the vision up along with it, and abruptly it fell away, melting around them like fire demolishing a spider's web._

He dropped his shaking hand, releasing Rey with a sudden wash of weariness.

Her hands were shaking against his, still gripping his lightsaber so tightly her knuckles were bloodless. Slowly, he released her hand, feeling suddenly weak and sick from the exertion, but also slightly freed.

At last, she knew.

"It was you…." Her voice was hoarse, torn between horrified and repulsed, also a tinge of betrayal and hurt echoing in those three words. "...this whole time you knew…."

"No," he murmured quietly. "I didn't. Not until Maz's."

"You KNEW!" He felt a cold sharp pain to his face, and something painful slam into his chest at the same time, and realized with some weary shock he was laying flat on his back, his own lightsaber having been thrown violently at his face, metal hilt impacting his cheek. He felt blood trickle down from a small cut below his right eye, but made no move to touch it, eyes locked on the trembling fury that was Rey towering above him. Something tickled the back of his mind telling him this was not good, but he was too focused on staring up at the rage twisted on her face to notice. "You lied to me! About everything!"

"Rey..." he murmured. He understood the anger twisting her perspective, and did not attempt to sway it. He deserved this. But he wished he could explain the rest in a way she understood. Wished he could convey his feelings, as conflicted as they were.

"Don't you dare!" she seethed, lifting a hand and pointing a finger at him. "I never want to see you again. Ever."

And before he could say another word, she was gone.

* * *

Notes:

Sorry about the delay in updates. My shift schedule changed last week so I now have different days off. Updates will come on Tuesday or Wednesday most likely moving forward for now.

And so finally Rey knows the truth! Seems Ben's finally shed the last of his secrets... or has he?

Question is, what will she do with it now?

Next Chapter: The Mission


	8. Chapter 8: The Mission

_He had his doubts about whether this plan would work or not, honestly. He was NOT the world's greatest actor. But the fact was, his face was far more recognizable with his mask on, and given his wanted status, trying to pretend like he belonged there, storming his way in with lightsaber flashing was not the best way to lead a mission of subterfuge._

* * *

Chapter 8: The Mission

It was raining by the time he made it back to the base. He hardly noticed. His hair hung down in strips around his face, plastered to his cheek. The small cut on his cheek still bled, red dripping down his pale face, staining his collar crimson. He walked aimlessly, ignoring the stares of the pilots as he methodically strode through the sea of X-wings. His mind was as foggy as the saturated sky shrouding the mountains all around them, bleak and colorless. The world felt strangely empty around him, and his soul felt withered.

 _Why do I feel this way?_

He couldn't even answer himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he suspected the reason, but did not want to acknowledge it. The burst of memories that had re-awakened in his mind still felt jumbled, broken, fragmented. Strange how he had not questioned it at the time, though now as he stood on the precipice of two halves of himself, he called forth the doubt and hesitation hiding beneath bravado.

Seeing her eyes as they stared at him that way… It was as if someone had slammed a blade through his heart, or what was left of it.

There was no denying that ache in his chest. Sharp, painful, mortal in it's own way.

He heard shouts, angry cries, warnings being shot his way, and ignored them. What need had he to pay attention to such mundane matters. His mission had been fulfilled. He was free now to pay his dues, attone for his sins. His duty was done. Rey would have nothing to do with him, so then what purpose had he to continue this ruse?

A wash of disorientation and dizziness broke his reverie, and he glanced down distractedly, not quite sure why there was new blood spreading across his shirt. When had he been shot? No, it wasn't a blaster burn… there was something protruding from his chest, sharp and stained red.

Oh. Yes. He remembered now.

The hollow tree branch that had fallen on the ground behind him in the forest where he had knelt before Rey. Funny, he hadn't realized that he had struck it, hadn't realized that she had knocked him back with more than his own saber hilt.

 _Was that what this pain in my chest was? Just a tree branch?_ It seemed too simple as that.

A faint smile crossed his face as he felt the cool touch of pavement against his face, water splashing up as his cheek met the tarmac. If he must die, he didn't mind this. His mission was fulfilled, and he felt a sense of calm sweep over him, despite a nagging sense he was forgetting something important.

He didn't hear his mother's cries as she ran towards him. Instead, he surrendered himself to the inky blackness, allowing himself to drift free.

* * *

He wasn't alone.

He wasn't sure how he knew. This place had no name, no form. It was pure thought, an endless stretch of infinity. But somehow he knew. There was a presence, thick and heavy in the air around him.

It frightened him in a way he had never felt before.

"Ben…" the voice was unfamiliar, but somehow he knew it anyway.

He turned, just as a figure stepped from the darkness, appearing before him. The face he did not know, but somehow despite that, he knew who this was, felt his presence, acknowledged it. "...Grandfather."

The man before him was older, worn, with close-cut hair that might once have had a full body to it, his eyes knowing, face somber. The face itself was not one he knew, but the eyes spoke to his soul. He shimmered slightly in blue-green light, not quite there. Anakin Skywalker was no youth as he stood before him, but a reflection of the man he had become, the Sith Lord who had turned away from the darkness, who understood his grandson's struggle. And he had a sad smile directed at him.

"Have you come to take me with you?"

"Not yet," was the quiet response. "You have much left to do, you don't get off that easy."

So, he was not dead. One part of him was bitterly disappointed, but another part sighed with relief. "You've never come to me before… but you helped me. You showed me the vision."

"You were not ready to speak with me until now," was the quiet response, sad eyes holding his own. "You clung to the concept of the man who I killed, rather than the man I am. That man could not speak to you. I can. I could not allow you to travel down the same path that I did. You had to know what awaited you if you chose to walk it."

"But I DID walk the same path you did… I tried to carry out your legacy. I wished to bring balance to the Force, to eliminate the corruption of the two sides constantly destroying each other."

The eyes that held him were eerily knowing, and sent shivers through his mind. "Do not deceive yourself, Ben. As much as you embraced the darkness, thought yourself following my path, you never truly took the steps necessary to do so. And had you done so, we would not be speaking now. In fact, your own actions cemented your fate away from the darkness, the moment you took the girl into your care."

Conflict rose up within him as he stared at the man that had once been Darth Vader. "I don't understand."

"That, my boy, is the point." A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and he felt a strange chill swept through his mind at the touch. "The darkness you bear, is not entirely your own. Your inheritance has burdened you with my guilt, my legacy. The sacrifice you have made has made you stronger than you could possibly know… but it also keeps you dangerously near the edge of darkness. A fine line that can easily be crossed in either direction. It prevents you from truly knowing peace, until you can master your own conflict."

A wash of light seemed to flicker around them, disrupting the darkness, causing his grandfather's ghost to appear nearly invisible. "Know one thing, Ben…" Anakin said quietly, gripping his shoulder tightly, his touch strangely hot, yet icy at the same time, searing into him. "...you are the master of your fate, beyond all else. Even the Force cannot will a man to do what he does not wish to do. It is in your power to choose your own destiny. Never forget this."

* * *

The world fell away around him, as his eyes shot open, a ragged gasp escaping from his throat.

"Ben! Relax! Calm down!"

He blinked, eyes wide as they shifted from staring at a bleak white ceiling of a medical ward, resting upon Leia's deeply worried face hovering at his bedside. "...Mother." A faint flicker of a smile crossed her face, and he felt her warm hand loop into his, squeezing gently. He could see tears lingering in her eyes. "...what happened?"

"You don't remember?" Concern etched her forehead as she stared down at him, lightly running a thumb over the sutures stuck to his cheekbone. "We found you collapsed on the tarmac, bleeding."

His eyes shifted to the table beside him, noticing the jagged piece of wood still stained with his blood, lying beside the sterile instruments. It came back to him abruptly. "...Rey. Where is Rey?"

A sorrowful expression crossed his mother's face, but she quickly shook his head, squeezing his hand. "She's fine. She came back a few hours ago. She isn't hurt. She was very upset that you were injured."

 _Upset? She was the one who injured me._ Somehow that didn't alleviate the guilt plaguing him.

He fell back against the pillows, not having realized he'd even sat up as the distant sting of the wound that had been patched up on his chest ached dully. He ran a hand over it, feeling the bandage, but no sharp pain, evidence of a speedy bacta healing. "Good…"

"What happened, Ben. She says she won't speak to you. What did you say to her?"

His eyes glazed as he stared absently into space. He remembered it now. What she had said, how she had reacted. He dimly remembered stumbling back to the base, somehow instinctively knowing he was wounded, though not actively aware of it. He remembered stumbling and falling. And he remembered he had been gripping his lightsaber in one hand.

 _Well, shit. Guess that's the last of the lies then._

He sighed, closing his eyes. The image of his grandfather's ghost came to mind, and he felt a sudden swell of confusion. He had never even once been greeted with any of his deceased family. He recalled his uncle telling him of speaking with his old mentors, the Jedi Masters who had trained him even in death giving him advice. But they had never come to him, no matter how he had cursed his grandfather's name.

Until that moment before Snoke, when his grandfather had finally reached out to him, offering him a lifeline. Offering him the choice Darth Vader never was granted. In allowing him to see where his path would take him, Kylo Ren had abandoned that path towards darkness, and Ben Solo had struggled to return to the light as a result.

A strange sensation swept through him.

If his grandfather had not acted, Kylo Ren would be on Starkiller Base right now, preparing to annihilate innocent people, following in Vader's own shadowed footsteps. His fate would be completely different, his path traveling down an alternate journey, one far darker and less prone to redemption.

Darth Vader had wished to save him from a similar fate to his own. That was a staggering thought.

"I told her the truth," he finally said, surprised that he felt that presence of calm enveloping him. He did not regret it, though the thought of Rey despising him was like a knife to his chest that stung far worse than the branch which had pierced it.

Leia's breath caught. "All of it?"

"She knows who I am," he said simply. That was all that mattered. The other details would come in later, if she chose to accept them. She was no fool. She knew the horrors he had committed under the guise of Kylo Ren. Those stories were thick and plentiful.

Leia sighed, and he felt her tension rise to a higher level. "So does the rest of the base, Ben. The Admiral decided they should know, for their safety."

"I know." He could feel the tension in the air, thick around them. And he could sense two guards standing rigidly in the door exiting the medical center.

Like that would do anything. They must know two guards against Kylo Ren was a laughable attempt to show force.

But then, it wasn't for him that appearances were being kept up. _Let them play their game. Let them think they are in control._

It was better this way anyhow. He had grown sick of the lies. It had been so complicated to pretend to be one person around Rey, another around his mother, and a third around the base. He had never been a good actor, he wore his emotions too close to the surface to try and conceal them, making him a very poor pretender. With everything in the open, he felt strangely detached, numb.

"They don't want anything to do with you. They're undecided on what should happen next," Leia murmured quietly. "No matter what intel you have, you're a real threat they can't ignore. Unfortunately, the timeline being what it is, we need your help now more than ever." His gaze lifted to fixate on her face, frowning slightly. "The Starkiller Base has been spotted on an intercept course coming towards use. A decision has been made to infiltrate the base and try to destroy it."

He frowned slightly. "And how do they plan on doing that?"

She just shot him a look. "They were hoping you would help them with that part."

He grimaced, and slowly pushed himself into a seating position. His mother helped him up, supporting his back. After a moment, the stiffness ebbed, and the throbbing of his patched wound faded. "I have a few ideas. If they are willing to trust me."

"I don't think they ever will do that… but they may listen."

His jaw set. "Very well. Take me to them."

* * *

He didn't see Rey until the all-base meeting. She had changed her clothing, he noticed as he watched her from the shadows of the back of the room, having snuck in quietly after the briefing had begun to avoid drawing undue attention. She had donned a longer sleeve shirt, grey tunic and more substantial slacks. She still wore her hair the same, but she seemed older, more serious somehow. Her staff was still strapped to her back, but someone had given her a blaster which she had in a holster at her hip. He could see her head turning, scanning the crowd.

 _Looking for me_ , he realized. For not wanting to see him again, she seemed to be trying very hard to do just that. It stirred his emotions to watch her from the shadows. Perhaps her hate was not as strong as it had first appeared.

 _I am the only one with answers. She can't deny me completely, or she will reject what she has sought for so long._

It had been only a day since their confrontation in the forest. His chest still ached, but the doctors had done a good job of patching him up, there would barely be a scar to add to his collection. Like Rey, he had changed his look, given his father's shirt had been bloodied beyond repair, he had donned his own familiar black vest and pants, choosing to forgo the iconic robes, cloak and helmet in favor of a borrowed dark leather jacket. He felt less like an imposter, more like himself, whoever that might be currently he couldn't quite say. Not quite Ben Solo, not quite Kylo Ren. Something in-between.

His mother looked stronger than he'd last seen her. Her face was filled with life, shoulders straight, hair neatly tucked up on her head in a smart braid. Her face was glowing, so fierce and proud, like the woman of his memories.

He hadn't realized how impactful his presence had been. He was glad to see it had changed her, as her firm tone carried across the room, explaining the plan that they had settled on following the intel he had provided. She hadn't liked it, but he had argued that it was the less risky of the options, that had the best outcome. And the rest of the Resistance brass, while still not trusting him even the slightest, couldn't argue with allowing him to be the one taking all the risks. There was nothing more to be lost in allowing him to lead the mission, their base had already been compromised the moment the pilot Poe Dameron had been captured. This way, they could focus on a space assault, evacuate the base, and still have a chance at taking out the massive weapon.

He knew at least a few of them were secretly hoping he did not return from this mission. He couldn't blame them.

"We have decided the mission cannot be delayed any longer. The closer Starkiller Base comes into range, the less time we have." General Organa's voice carried easily through the attentive crowd. "Thanks to our newly gained intel…" he heard low rumblings of dissent, as the base clearly knew just _who_ had provided that intel, and they were not happy about it, "...we are going to keep this operation small and quick in order to take the Order by surprise." Her gaze shifted towards him, and with a slightly imperceptible nod of acknowledgement she extended a hand slightly in his direction. "Ben, if you would go over the plan with us."

Instantly all heads swiveled to stare at him, the sea of people parting quickly to give him a wide berth. He straightened from where he had been leaning, arms crossed against the wall, two sentries keeping a watchful eye on him. His eyes briefly meeting Rey's before she looked away, face set in an angry scowl. He stepped forward, each bold footstep accompanied by tense guarded stares of every person in that room as they watched him, judged him. He could feel the anger and hatred swelling through the room as he moved to the center, but ignored it, his face set in a calm detached mask.

The irony was nearly stifling. The dangerous Knight Commander Kylo Ren, most trusted advisor to the Supreme Commander himself, leading an assault to take down the very organization he had devoted six years of his life to.

It was no wonder they were suspicious. The whole concept was ludicrous.

"The planet is protected by a series of redundant deflector shields," he began, deep voice carrying firmly through the room. "There is no getting past them through the usual methods. Any codes I might have known would no doubt be long invalid, so we can't bluff our way in through their defenses. However, the shields operate on a rotational modulation frequency that permit certain things though that is necessary, for example the energy of the star they drain. In order to permit that energy, there is a small variation in the field variance that permits anything moving fast enough to penetrate it."

"What could move that fast, though?" one of the pilots spoke up. "Blasters and torpedos won't break through, so how can a ship?"

He saw his mother's lips tighten.

She had hated the idea he'd pitched, for obvious reasons. She had flat out told him he was JUST like his father, much to his chaffed ego. But he felt he was capable of performing in order to negate the risk. His reactions were fueled by the Force, allowing him to perform feats beyond that of normal pilots.

"We fly a ship in at light-speed beneath the shield." There was a few outbursts of surprise, disbelief, and a few choice comments.

"It is possible. But risky," the General said, casting her gaze across the room, silencing the mutters. "Which is why we have authorized Ben to lead a small team to infiltrate the base. The less people we send, the better chances of success. He knows the facility, and can take care of himself if detected. He will move here…" her finger touched a point, expanding the display to show a shielding station. "...plant explosives and disable the shield. This will allow a group of fighters to move in, and attack the generator facility."

 _Small team. Right. Better than saying he was going in solo._

A long pause in his mind, then irritation. He did _not_ just think that.

He held back a sigh, zooming in on the interior of the control station. "The facility is the base's weakest point. If enough explosive energy travels down the conduits, it will ignite the dark energy stored in the planet's core and start a chain reaction which will cause it to explode." There was an oppressive silence, and one appraising glance told him all eyes were on him. He didn't have to question why, after all he had been the face of their enemy for over six years. They were asking themselves if they could trust the very man they fought against, to provide them the only chance at winning this battle and destroying the First Order's most dangerous weapon.

"While this attack is being carried out, we will be re-locating the base personnel to a Beta site," Admiral Satura spoke up, obviously thinking thoughts similar to Ben was. "The First Order already knew our location the moment they captured Dameron. If we had not been provided this intel, we may never have seen their attack before it was too late. This gives us our only chance to strike first, strike hard, and stop them before they have a chance to strike at their next target, Hosnian Prime. I don't have to tell you what is at stake if they destroy the center of the New Republic. That is why this can't wait. You have all been given your orders, see that you carry them out to the best of your ability. May the Force be with you. Dismissed."

The room was abuzz with voices as the briefing adjourned. Leia turned towards her son, sighing, placing her hands on his shoulders as she gazed up at him. "I still wish it wasn't you that was going on this crazy mission… You're just like your father, flying into danger."

He didn't smile. He hated being compared to Han Solo, but he could see the similarities, given his father had led such a suicidal mission himself on the second Death Star. It seemed their fates were intertwined, whether they liked it or not. "It has to be me," he said quietly. "No one else knows that base like I do. Besides, if our ruse fails, I can just force my way in, and no one can stop me."

"I know. I just wish you didn't have to."

His hands tightened slightly over hers, acknowledging her concern. But the dark part of his soul felt himself tense, bracing against returning the warmth directed at him. After all, there was a high likelihood he would not return. He was marching willingly into the worst place he could be. If he was captured, he would be brought to Snoke, and he had no doubt he would never see them again should that happen. Even so, he wasn't entirely convinced he was going to return when the mission was over. After all, Rey didn't want him around, and he had fulfilled his oath in protecting her and telling her the truth. He still had one more part of that oath to complete, but that was going to have to wait until after this mission. At that point, he would be free again to make his own choices and follow his own path… whatever that might be.

"When do you leave?"

"In an hour. The Falcon is being given a once-over to make sure she won't fall apart before we get there... she needs more than that, but we have to use the fastest ship available to make up for time lost," he muttered. "I swear if she explodes in hyperspace, I will haunt Han Solo to his grave."

"I'm sure your father will love that as much as you would." Leia snorted.

He managed a faint smile, but it was without enthusiasm. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Han Solo has not returned to visit in quite some time," a chipper voice chimed in, unwanted. He glared over at C3PO as the droid shuffled up. "I do believe I last heard he was running smuggling ships out of Nanteen." He tilted his head slightly. "And it is so good to see you home, Master Ben. It hasn't quite been the same without you!"

He didn't even smile, just stared at C3PO with a flat expression. He had inherited his father's fondness for the droid.

Which was to say, none.

But as usual C3PO was oblivious. "Admiral Satura has provided you with a list of comm frequencies to the pilots on the mission, as well as a crate of supplies to assist you. He said if you require anything else to simply let me know and I can have it arranged for you."

Taking the datapad, he glanced down at the list, and nodded. "This will do."

"Stay safe Ben… and come home," his mother murmured, squeezing his arm once before she turned and rejoined the Admiral who was waiting for her. He watched her go, feeling a tight squeeze in his chest. He honestly hoped he would. But he wasn't confidant.

He made his way to the Falcon after finishing briefing the Admirals and jogged up the ramp, noting someone had already loaded the crates into the cargo hold. The mechanics had finished their work, so he deftly he hit the controls to the ramp, and slid into the cockpit seat, staring at the controls.

It had been some time since he'd done this… hopefully he remembered how to fly this old bucket. Flipping the ignition switches, he began warming the sublight engines, studying the readouts, and preparing the com list for communications. He distractedly cast his gaze out at the tarmac, watching the pilots move around, prepping their ships for departure shortly after him, and wondered where Rey was. He didn't want to disturb her, he could feel her presence, but it was muted, as if she had purposely been practicing controlling it so he couldn't sense her as well. He knew she wanted her space, and so he'd given it to her without question. _She will be safe here_ , he thought. But he still felt a pinch of disappointment that she hadn't even showed up to see him off.

 _I suppose I deserve it after what I have done..._

Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced his mind to clear. He could not be distracted by this. He had a mission to perform. Igniting the sublight drive, lifting the Falcon up into the air, he turned the ship and accelerated into the atmosphere. Despite the roar of engines around him and the vibration of the ship rattling it's way into space, it felt oddly quiet to him. He punched in the co-ordinates, briefly appraised the hyperdrive, and then pulled up the latest nav computer data to get an accurate bearing on the planet's trajectory. Then, he punched it in and the ship leapt into light-speed with an eager whine, stars becoming streaks of white against the dark sky as the Millennium Falcon disappeared into the void of hyperspace.

He checked the nav computer idly to see how much time he had to waste. Approximately two days, even at the fastest speed the Falcon could manage in her condition.

He leaned back with a sigh, staring emptily at the shifting tunnel of light, feeling disquieted. Rey was still on his mind, and he could almost smell her scent in his nose, that sweet touch of arid desert and rose.

 _Damn…_ One hand swept over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

He REALLY had to get his mind off of Rey.

Rising to his feet he slid out of the pilot's chair and made his way down the hall back towards the bunks.

He had his doubts about whether this plan would work or not, honestly. He was NOT the world's greatest actor. But the fact was, his face was far more recognizable with his mask on, and given his wanted status, trying to pretend like he belonged there, storming his way in with lightsaber flashing was not the best way to lead a mission of subterfuge. If it came to it, he would fall back to that plan. In the meantime, he had to figure out why Rey was laying in his berth.

He froze. _Wait… what?_

She stared at him, arms crossed, those brilliant green eyes narrow, looking particularly prickly.

"You thought you could leave me behind again?"

He realized his mouth was open, gawking at her like a foolish schoolboy, but the whole concept of her being there, glaring at him with no way to turn around and bring her back to safety left him reeling.

She clearly had planned this out.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked out, finally making his dry lips move, though he was ashamed to hear his voice shaking slightly.

The look she gave him could have melted Tatoonie's sun. "I'm going with you, moron."

"But I thought you wanted nothing to do with me…"

She threw him a 'don't you question me' look and slid off the berth, marched over to him and prodded his chest firmly with two fingers. "You're not doing this alone. It's suicide for you to go back to the Order by yourself."

"And you think that your presence will make it less suicidal?"

"It'll give you a hell of a better chance if someone watches your backside," she frowned. "Besides, no one else wanted to do it, and they don't trust you to do this on your own. And what happens if you're incapacitated or captured? Then what? This whole thing could fall to pieces. You need a wingman, and I'm it. Deal with it."

He felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude, but also a swell of deep seeded worry. "This mission hadn't planned on two people infiltrating the base."

"Don't worry, your mother got me what I needed to make it work."

Oh. It had been HER idea. His expression went blank. "She sent you."

"No. She asked. I agreed."

"Why?"

Rey studied him, her expression softening slightly, though a fire still gleaming in her eyes as she regarded him. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand and brushed it against his cheek where his lightsaber hilt had struck his face. "I heard what they say about you… the stories they tell about the people you've murdered, tortured…." his expression was pinched as her eyes studied his face carefully. "They're all afraid of you." He didn't answer her, his face drawn, eyes lowering slightly, not denying the claims. They were true, after all.

 _That and more._

"Your mother said you never had friends as a boy… that you were always alone. I understand what that's like." He glanced back at her, seeing a sad expression staring back at him.

"Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Yes."

At least she was honest. He could see her shoulders tense as she kept herself standing tall, refusing to give in to the slight quake of her arms held tightly at her side.

Slowly, she placed her hand over his chest, where the dead branch had speared through close to his heart. Feeling him flinch slightly as she brushed over the still healing wound, she gently rested her hand there, eyes searching his closely, though for what he could not say. "When you…. Showed me what you did," she said slowly, voice quiet, "I was terrified. It felt like I was being torn apart, as if my insides were on fire. I felt your power, felt everything that you did, the rage, the anger, the hate… It was horrible."

"Rey…"

"Let me finish," she cut him off, fingers curling slightly against his chest. He obeyed, unable to resist those eyes watching him with a desperate quiet plea. "It's as if all the darkness in the world had settled into my mind and was trying to extinguish who I am… who you were." She bit her lip. "I've never been so scared in my life," she shuddered, eyes slipping shut, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I ran, because I didn't know what to do," she took a deep breath, then opened her eyes, and gazed back up at the mournful face staring down at her. "But then later… I realized that you didn't have to show me that. You chose to, even though you knew I would react badly. You did it anyway. And you're the only person who knew who I was… where I come from… why I was taken to Jakku. You're the reason I was there in the first place, and you're the only one who can give me answers. And I have even more questions now than I did before. If I let you leave, I'll never find out the truth."

He regarded her, noticing the way her mouth was set in a familiar stubborn line that told him she didn't plan on taking no for an answer, or backing down. A strange swell of pride rose within him. She was stronger than he'd given her credit for.

"What if you don't like the truth?" he asked slowly. "What I showed you… it's just a small glimpse of a vast world that you can't possibly understand… one with consequences and danger."

"I know. I don't care. It's who I am, I know that now." Rey said firmly. "And I want to understand it, I want to know who I am, where I came from, and why you promised to protect me and broke your word." She took a deep breath. "But not now. I can't handle all of this at once. Let me deal with one thing at a time. You will hold your end of the bargain and tell me the rest when I'm ready to hear it."

He cringed at that, and took a step back, averting his eyes. She didn't try to stop him.

"I know who you are. Who they say you are. And frankly, I'm terrified. But I also know who you are to me, who you've been around me. And if that's the person you are now, then I don't want to make the mistake of letting your past distort the man I've come to know." She took a deep breath. "No matter how dark it is."

He could have kissed her.

"I want you to teach me."

He stiffened, glancing back to her sharply, frozen at the request. But the way she stared at him, she was utterly serious. And the prospect drove a wild tingle down his spine, whispers of glee in his mind.

 _Finally… You could shape her power as you see fit. She is stronger than you know, that power could be developed into something unstoppable._

 _And it could corrupt her, as it corrupted me._

"No."

Anger flashed over her face at the refusal. "What?"

"No," he repeated, shutting his eyes as he brought a hand to his face, covering his forehead as he took a deep breath. He felt ready to break apart. How could she know the danger that was in store before her, especially if he thought himself presumptuous to teach her. "It's too dangerous. You have no idea how easy it is to lose control, for the darkness to consume you. It's so easy to fall, to become corrupted. I wasn't strong enough to resist it, despite my master's best efforts."

"But you were strong enough to turn back."

And those simple words were his undoing. Leaning against the bulkhead, his broad shoulders sagged, head lowering to shadow his eyes from view behind the curtain of dark hair.

Somewhere in the fog of despair that overwhelmed him, he felt Rey moving him over to the bunk, seating him down, whispering gently and brushing the hair off his forehead as he hunched there, consumed by his emotions. Everything he had been forced to endure, the long six years of his life that had been one constant torment for him, it overwhelmed him and clouded his mind, drawing him into a dark place where everything he had been containing and hiding from himself rushed to the surface. He had so little positive thoughts that didn't revolve around his ego, glory, and sadistic tendencies. He had been alone for so long, so enveloped in the corruption of the dark side, that he had no idea how much it hurt to lose the one small thing that had given him hope after so long, and to then have it returned to him.

Rey… she was his ray of light in the darkness.

He must have exhausted himself into slumber, for when he finally opened his eyes, the lights had been dimmed, a light blanket had been draped over his shoulders, and he was laying down on the lower bunk, alone in the room. Wearily he blinked and brushed his eyes, feeling they were raw and dry with the tears that had run him dry. Despite that, he felt oddly free. A sense of calm had settled into his soul, and for once, the mocking whispers were silent, and the young boy who he once had been was allowed to take control.

He stood, glancing in the nearest mirror, seeing red rimmed eyes sporting dark bags staring back from his pale face. Running a hand over his face, he pressed his fingers to his eyes and took a slow breath, then slowly stepped out of the bunkroom back into the main recreation hold.

Rey was sitting there, arms wrapped around her legs, head leaning on the back of the booth seat by the holochess table, half-dozed off with a datapad resting between her chest and her legs. At first he thought she was asleep and paused in the doorway, not wishing to disturb her, but she must have sensed his presence and lifted her head, eyes opening to regard him. She offered a faint smile. "Feel better?"

He nodded slightly. "A bit."

"Good." She swung her legs over the edge of the booth and stood, walking over to the galley and pulling out two prepared meals and some fresh water for them both. "Come on, eat something. You're beginning to look thinner than I am. And you'll need your strength."

He didn't protest, sitting and accepting the meal as Rey sat across from him, digging into hers with gusto. He followed suit, albeit less enthusiastically, since he never had really enjoyed a healthy appreciation for food. Most of the meals under his time with the First Order had been functional enough to provide nutrition, but had not been particularly tasteful. Part of the militaristic utilitarian lifestyle of a soldier. Even his quarters had been no different from the rest, albeit slightly larger and with a few personal effects. His grandfather's melted mask came to mind, something he had chosen to leave there, an icon to how he had turned his back on everything he had been.

Rey on the other hand, thought that any food which wasn't dried tasteless meat to be a gourmet meal. He enjoyed watching her shove the food gracelessly in her mouth, unrepentant of her lack of manners. She was so free, so filled with contradictions. She was incredibly focused, yet so wild and open in ways that he was not. It made him smile more, watching her.

"Whut…" He blinked, realizing she'd stopped mid-chew, aware of his staring, and was glaring at him.

"I've decided you're right." Now it was her turn to stare. "...It can't hurt having someone watch my back. But you can't do that very effectively right now. You must be able to protect yourself."

"I seem to recall beating you over the head a few times with my staff earlier. I think I can defend myself."

"With the Force."

She stiffened, her eyes widening quickly, a spark of wonder and excitement. "You're going to teach me?"

"What I can," he agreed quietly. "We only have a short time, can't promise much. But if I can teach you a few basics… it's better than nothing."

The raw fascination that radiated from her was almost painful. "I learn fast."

"I know you do. I'm counting on that."

The smile thrown back at him made him feel dizzy.

"What do you know of the Force?"

Her brow furrowed, not having expected that question. "It's, um… what allows Jedi to move things with their mind?"

He arched an eyebrow. "And?"

"Uh…" she looked utterly lost. "It's powerful?"

He snorted slightly, and then reached over for a writing instrument that lay beside her datapad, holding it up. "What is this?"

"A pen…?" she asked warily, suspecting it was a trick question.

"Is it powerful?"

"It's a pen," she said bluntly.

"So?" He regarded her, waiting expectantly. "A pen in the hands of a child can produce amazing art. A pen in the hands of a politician can create or destroy governments. Would you say that is powerful?"

Slowly realization began to dawn in her eyes as to where he was going with that. "It's all about perspective… how you use it."

"Precisely." He set the pen down on it's tip, and let it go. Predictably it fell over. "Gravity is a force. It has it's rules, to which we all must obey."

"Unless you turn off the grav generators."

He threw her a look. She just grinned mockingly.

"I suppose that is true. But that is our control over gravity, to reverse its power by our own power. That is, in a sense, what the Force does."

He held the pen up again, balanced it on the tip once more, and let go. This time the pen stayed perfectly erect, not moving as his will kept it in place. Rey's eyes widened in astonishment. "The Force is the counterbalance to the rules of the galaxy. For every rule that exists in nature, so too does the Force exist. It allows those who can use it to bend the rules, change them in a sense. Instead of obeying the rules, you re-construct them to do as you please." With a wave of his hand, the pen toppled over without being touched. "The Force has limits, just as nature does. You can only do as much as the rules permit."

Rey frowned, picking up the pen, and trying to balance it on it's tip again, staring at it intently. It promptly fell over. She scowled.

"Stop," he ordered, holding a hand up. "You're making the first mistake by thinking it to stay put. Don't think at it. It's a pen, it doesn't care what you think." He tilted it back up, and held it in place with a single finger, prepping it for her. "Reach out with your feelings. Drop your guard. Feel the pen in your mind, and hold it still."

He didn't release it, but instead stared at her, watching as she focused, hands gripping the table, taking a deep breath. He slowly lifted his hold from the pen. It wobbled for a moment, then collapsed. Rey grit her teeth in frustration, glaring at him. "How the blazes am I supposed to do that?"

"Let your mind wander. Instead of focusing ON the pen, focus on the air around the pen," he suggested, propping it back up. "Support it, hold it in place, let it be free, but balance it with your mind. Embrace it, and let yourself go. Getting frustrated will only help you lose focus faster. Instead, try to calm your mind, picture it in your head, and relax," she nodded slowly, and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. "...remember what you felt when we fled Jakku?" he asked quietly. "How you did not know you could fly the way you did? You only did that because you let go of your fears, allowed the Force to flow through you, and allowed it to guide your actions. Remember that moment, think back to it, try to recall how it felt and let that envelop you again." He saw her face relax, drifting back to that moment, saw the light smile as she found her peace, and her breathing slowed. "Good… now balance the pen," he instructed, slowly lifting his finger off of it. The pen remained upright, swaying slightly for a moment, but then growing still. A smile crossed over his face. "Now look."

Rey opened her eyes, and blinked at the sight of the pen remaining perfectly balanced. Her eyes widened slightly, and the pen swayed again. Relaxing, she lifted her chin slightly, but allowed her shoulders to drop, and it stilled. "I feel it," she said quietly, not taking her eyes off the pen. "It's like…. A presence."

"The Force is energy," he explained, lifting his finger, pushing at the pen with his mind. It tilted to the side, and he felt her mind tense, pushing back as it slowly began to right itself. "Energy you control, but do not own, merely borrow. You become it's conduit, it's channel, it's guide. Grasp too much of it, try to hold on to it and it tires you. Allow it to flow through you, and feats you find impossible suddenly are obtainable."

Her hand caught the pen as she broke eye contact to look at him. "What is the most you've done with the Force?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Define most."

"The… most powerful or impressive thing?"

"The Force isn't about what is the most powerful," he said slowly, aware that his answer was balanced between what he knew from both the darkness and the light. "There is the kind of power that intimidates, instills fear because people think you are great for wielding it. Then there is the kind of power that is powerful because it is subtle. It is more about how you use it, than it's actual strength."

She considered that, then looked at him, eyes uncertain. "But people fear Kylo Ren because you are powerful. What does that mean?"

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his nose, squeezing his bridge slightly. "Yes, well… you know I have a temper."

"Really? NO clue."

He smiled faintly, and shot her a look. "I tend to… get carried away with my emotions. I have never been very good at containing them. When I'm upset, I can channel the Force to my will, and tend to extend it as a part of myself, as a weapon. My anger and my strength become my power."

"So you're saying you trash stuff with your mind."

He grimaced. "Essentially, yes."

"So… telekinesis and telepathy are your strengths… what about things you can't do?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have never been able to focus my thoughts, calm my mind well enough to perform feats that require patience. Healing for example."

She blinked. "You can heal with the Force?"

He nodded slightly, glancing down at one of the scars across the back of his hand. "Some Jedi were incredible healers. Their ability was legendary to focus energy in order to knit together wounds, stitch together flesh better than any bacta patch could do. Some could even repair scars themselves, or remove poison from the body, heal fevers." He shook his head slowly. "I never could understand how to do that. The most I can do is remove pain by deadening the feeling around a wound, allowing me to push past it to continue fighting, staunch the flow of blood to prevent from dying."

"That's all you think about, fighting," she muttered. "Is that power to you?"

"It was," he agreed grimly. "I thought that to become powerful was to embrace my power and lash out with it. It's all I've focused on since turning my back on my old life. I was trained to become a weapon, used only for that. It's all I was for a long time."

She studied him. "Well… you can always learn new things… just as you're teaching me, maybe your uncle will teach you control."

"He tried," he said grimly, averting his eyes. "...and I'm not certain he would accept me back as a student, even if I wished to go."

"I think you underestimate him… and yourself." He just regarded her, wary doubt in his gaze. "Anyway… holding a pen up on a table is all well and good when I'm entertaining a bunch of drunk pilots, but it's not going to help me defend your back in a fight." She leaned forward, eyes intense. "Show me something useful."

He eyed her uncertainly. He felt as if they were rushing too fast. That had been his greatest mistake, wanting to learn too much, too fast. His uncle had pushed to learn fast as well, and had been tempted by the powers of the darkness. But, Rey had a point. He had to teach her skills she could use in a battle.

He considered his options, running over what he could help her with that would not overtax her skills and rush her too fast down the dark path before she was prepared to deal with it. He stood, then bent down, pulling out a metal chest from under the table, rummaged around in it, and then brought out a round ball with several focal points for energy imbedded in it. Seeing her wary expression, he held it out to her. "Seen one of these before?"

She took it, slowly turning it over. "No… looks like some kind of torture device."

He snorted. "Close. It's a blaster trainer. Designed to help you develop reflexes to move quickly in a fight." Taking it back, he moved to the center of the room, fiddling with the controls. "Ironically, I think this very well might be the same trainer my uncle learned to wield his lightsaber against…" He saw her tense in surprise, trying to imagine the venerable Jedi Master Luke Skywalker as a young man in training. "...my father used it so he could learn to avoid being shot. This thing hurts like a bantha fart when it hits you." Her unrestrained giggle made him arch an eyebrow. "You laugh now. Trust me, you won't in a minute." He held it up, and the drone initiated, hovering in mid air, spinning once before drifting to the right, then shifting up and to the left. He watched it distractedly as it moved. "Come here," he gestured, holding a hand out to her. Slowly she slid out from the booth and took his hand, allowing her to position her in the middle of the room before the drone. "We'll start easy. It's a moving target, more unpredictable than a pen. But it has a pattern to it. Try to freeze it in place and stop it. It will fight you, so keep it from moving."

She nodded, and took a firm stance, staring at the drone, watching it. The drone shifted forward, then back, moving as it sought an enemy to fight. But since it detected no energy weapon, it just kept moving, scanning for an opponent. Rey's eyes followed it, and he could see her brow furrowing as she concentrated, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. "Bloody thing…" she grumbled. "I can't, it's moving too fast for me to get a grip on it."

He arched an eyebrow, then lifted his hand. The drone sprung into his outstretched fingers with a snap of metal on flesh. "It's not that hard."

Rey stared at him incredulously. "Okay mister showoff! Maybe it's not hard for you, but how long have you been doing this?"

"Twenty-five years."

"And how long have we been at this? Twenty-five minutes?" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Give me a break."

He smiled, finding some amusement in her frustration. "Remember the pen. Stop thinking, and feel. Let your emotions flow through you, channel them to the drone. Don't think about where it's going to be, just feel it. Then you will realize it doesn't matter when it's going to move, you'll already have it in your grasp."

She sighed, but focused and turned to face the drone again.

They practiced for several hours. In the end, he found her quite the capable pupil, once she stopped trying to use her head. She not only had managed to learn to summon the drone to her hand after some difficulty, she had learned to push it away from her with a decent amount of force. He had her try to resist him as he moved it with his own power, trying to keep it still. She managed to only allow him to wobble it slightly, despite considerable effort placed into testing her.

After that, they moved to lifting things. Considering her progress with the drone, she began to get the grasp of lifting small objects fairly quickly. She still couldn't deflect anything thrown at her, and he tried tossing pens, datapads, even a cup, all of which she ended up batting away with her hand, rather than her mind.

After she grew tired of practicing telekinesis and force manipulation, he tested her battle skills. They already had sparred before, so he knew her a capable combatant, but this time he introduced the Force into his teaching. As she came at him, he would deflect her staff with a wave of his hand, or pull her off balance by stalling her feet or pulling her off center with a nudge of his mind. She didn't manage to land a blow on him as he stood perfectly relaxed at the center of the room until several hours later, when she feinted a move with her staff, allowing him to deflect it, then came in with her own mind and taught him his own lesson by shoving him with a weak blast into the wall.

He wasn't sure who had been more surprised, him or her.

Once she grew tired with sparring, he worked on her forms. There were a specific set of lightsaber stances known as Forms that had been practiced since the dawn of the Jedi. His uncle had learned several of the forms from his own teacher, the one who Ben drew his name from, as well as his own teacher, Master Yoda. He had passed along this learning to his pupil, who had promptly ignored his teachings and adapted them into his own style. But the basics were still there, though he'd forgotten the names of each stance he remembered how to use them. He showed her how to hold her body, balance herself, and worked with her staff since she favored it more than anything else. He showed her how to turn her body to perform a roll with her weapon and come back on her feet running, how to land on her feet without damaging her knees, using the Force to bolster her stance and remain rooted to the ground. He taught her how to throw her weapon over his head, roll and catch it at a run.

When she tired of physical training, he sat her down and showed her how to clear her mind, how to focus her breathing, how to slip into her own thoughts and drift into a meditative pose. Admittedly, this was his area of weakness, drawing peace from emptying his thoughts had never been something that came easily to him. However, Rey seemed to cling to it like lightning to water, embracing it easily. The amount of calm she could slip into was intoxicating, and even helped him with his own meditation, drawing off her energy for once, instead of the reverse.

It was a good way to end what had been an exhausting day, though Rey was not quite finished. "Ben…" He opened his eyes, peering at her through half-lidded eyes as he sat cross-legged on the floor opposite her. "Can you… show me some more memories?"

He blinked, and frowned uncertainly. "...your memories, or mine?"

She hesitated, and he could tell she was trying to decide which was more important to her, knowing about her past, or getting to know the dangerous man seated in front of her whom everyone seemed terrified of. "Do… you know who my family is?"

His expression shifted from one of wariness, to one of anguish, before his mask slammed up into place, face going blank again. "I'm not sure that you're ready for all those answers just yet."

Disappointment and a flash of anger flooded her face. "So what, you keep secrets still? Even now after I know all yours?"

"You don't know all my secrets Rey," he said quietly. "You know what other people know… and a little more."

"And you know everything about me."

He grimaced. "Not everything…" he sighed tiredly. "But… I see your point."

"Can you at least tell me how we knew one another?" she asked, frowning. "If you can't tell me about my family yet, at least explain that. I can't figure it out, how did you not recognize me when we first met? In that memory, you left me on Jakku… and Unkar Plutt didn't recognize you when you came back."

He frowned, eyes growing distant, then nodded slowly. "I employed a memory technique on him to make him forget my face. I let him remember Kylo Ren… his intel was useful, as was his fear."

She frowned. "But what about you?"

"I also employed the same technique to forget that memory myself," he said quietly. "It was a weakness that Snoke could exploit. It was better that Kylo Ren did not remember the young girl he had brought to Jakku."

"So… you remembered when we were at Maz's?"

He lifted his gaze, meeting her curious stare. "Memories are tricky things. You can't completely erase them, only suppress them. Under the right conditions, they release and are freed… During our discussion. It was something you said…" He averted his eyes. "You asked me not to leave you… you had begged that of me on Jakku. It awoke the memory, and I remembered everything connected to it."

Her eyes widened. "So you really didn't know who I was until that point?"

"I didn't. Though I had a feeling I had forgotten something important every time I looked at you," he muttered, a hand pressing to his chest, rubbing there idly. "It was bothering me to no ends. I kept thinking I was hallucinating, but it never occurred to me that I had put a block on my own memories. Not until that moment."

"But why did you take me there in the first place?"

He shut his eyes, as the sudden smell of blood and the sound of screams rose to his mind again. He shuddered, face growing pale and drawn, the raw feeling of the moment sweeping up through him and gripping him like a vice. He felt the dizzying sense of duplicity, and quickly clamped down on it.

"Ask me again after our mission," he said finally. "When this is over… I will tell you everything. Until then, we can't be distracted any more than we already are." At first, he thought she was going to argue with him, but after a moment, she nodded, accepting his compromise, albeit reluctantly.

Their training session at least seemed to have restored some amount of trust and honesty between them, something he was grateful for.

But he couldn't help but shake that feeling which told him he'd never get the chance to keep that promise…

* * *

Notes:

And there we have it, Rey's far more forgiving than Ben deserves. But then, she never saw him in action... not yet anyway. *cue ebil laughter*

Next chapter, we run into the rest of our missing ensemble! Finally!

Next Chapter: The Ruse


	9. Chapter 9: The Ruse

Chapter 9: The Ruse

* * *

"Ok, so these things officially have to be the ugliest disguises in the galaxy. This is not going to work."

Turning from where he was sitting at the central table, it was all he could do not to smirk at Rey as she emerged from the doorway, arms folded over the military green trouser one-piece with patches on the arm. "And I'm not one to judge on appearances usually considering I lived in the desert with junkers from twenty different species, wearing nothing but rags." She grimaced in disgust, then just happened to look up, and froze. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

He blinked, shoving the too-large glasses up his overly prominent nose, peering at her from beneath uncharacteristic blonde tresses. "I'm a radar technician."

"That wig looks like a wookiee's toupee. You're not fooling anyone."

"I wasn't about to bleach my hair," he said stiffly.

"Oh right, forgot, it doesn't match your dour personality." She plopped down on the bench across from him, and stared. "That shade of orange should be illegal. At least no one will be staring at your face with that on."

"Trust me, we won't stand out," he said, sighing.

Her eyes dropped to the lightsaber clipped to his belt. "Uh huh."

Flushing, he unbuckled it, and slipped it into one of the vest pockets. "Better?"

"You're sure they don't know your face? Because I'm beginning to think sticking you back in that bucket helmet of yours might be a better idea."

"I'm beginning to agree with you," he muttered to himself. It would be so much easier to just march in and force-throw everyone out of his way, at this point.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

Unconvinced, she slipped on her own orange vest, making a face as she pinned her own nametag on. Millie. How completely ludicrous. "I honestly don't want to know where you got these getups. Do the personnel for the Order really dress like this?"

"Yes," he said bluntly. "And you wouldn't believe what you can pick up on the space stations around Hutta. Trust me, there are weirder things for sale."

"I really don't want to know." She sighed, glancing longingly over at the staff propped against the wall. "You're sure I can't bring that?"

"It would be far too obvious," he said somberly. "It's a weapon, and it's not something you can stuff in your vest." She gave him a long hard look, and he felt his face go warm, averting his eyes. "You know what I mean!"

"Sure… Matt."

He admitted, he felt ill at ease himself. Though he planned to bring his lightsaber, he knew he was asking a lot of her to not bring her own weapon. They couldn't risk bringing blasters, if they were spotted with them they would be stopped and interrogated. And there were weapon detectors installed in most facilities for just that reason. The Order didn't want blasters being smuggled into sensitive equipment sites. Fortunately, they didn't scan for lightsabers, which brought him to the point he'd been avoiding since she'd sat down.

Rey went rigid as he placed his uncles lightsaber on the table in front of her.

He didn't speak, merely watched her as she stared down at it, the fear palatable in the air around her. She was ready for this. The amount she had learned in such a short time would have amazed his old master. She was worthy, therefore, of Anakin Skywalker's… no, Luke Skywalker's lightsaber.

"Rey?" he prodded gently after she didn't respond for an extended period of time.

"I don't know how to use it."

"Don't touch the glowing end."

She shot him a dark glare. "You know what I mean!"

"It isn't that much different from your staff. Use your senses, lose yourself in the Force, and it will come to you. Think of it as an extension of yourself, a part of you. Use it to enhance your reflexes. Sense the Force and use it to react." He knew they hadn't practiced blaster defense. Honestly, he had been a bit afraid to go there with her. She had learned quickly, but he didn't want her becoming consumed by the power of a weapon. He remembered the first time that he had held a lightsaber… It had been his uncle's second saber, the green one. Luke had taught him how to hold it, how to carefully swing it as not to injure himself. Leia had been furious. He had been five. He remembered being awed by the weapon, and loving the feel of it in his hand, the weight, the thrum of power connecting to him, extending himself.

In a way, he still loved that feel. Despite it's flaws, his weapon WAS him. He was flawed, so was it, raw power, dangerous and unstable, finely tipped on the balance between complete cohesion and lack thereof. He reached into his vest, pulling his weapon out, turning it over in his hand, studying the marred surface. He was aware Rey was staring at it, curiosity in her gaze, having actually never seen it ignited yet, other than in her vision. He turned the hilt around, holding it out to her for her inspection.

She hesitated. The last time she had touched it, she'd thrown it back in his face. However, this time her curiosity got the better of her, and she accepted it, blinking as the weight settled in her palm. "It's heavier than I thought."

"Mine is an exception," he explained. "It has extra power cells to compensate for it's natural instability."

She studied the hilt carefully, examining the quillons, squinting to see down the shaft into the base of the weapon. He could tell she was curious, her nimble hands were searching for a way to open it. Guiding her, he demonstrated how to twist the base of the grip, pushing the release mechanism in the base, allowing the hilt cover to slide down and away from the housing, barring the inner workings of the saber for her inspection. Her gaze wandered over the power cells to the focusing lens, then settled on the kyber crystal imbedded in the center of the cross-guard, quillon vents to either side. Then, she spotted the crack running down the length of the dark red gem, and reached a finger out to touch it. Quickly, he caught her hand, and shook his head warningly. Blinking, she studied it, but did not try to touch it again, then slowly handed it back to him. He snapped the cover back on, slipping the weapon back into his vest.

Her gaze slid down to the second lightsaber, drinking in the smooth lines and polished finish. Compared to his, the older weapon was much more simple, basic. Yet this one intimidated her far more than the one she had seen in her nightmares.

And honestly, that innocuous weapon was far more dangerous than his own. After all, it had graced Darth Vader's hand during his rise from Jedi to Sith Lord. It was responsible for dozens of innocent children meeting their end.

But so too had it saved a galaxy in it's own way.

He hadn't asked Maz how she had found Luke's lightsaber, and frankly he'd rather not know. He only knew Skywalker had lost it during the incident in Cloud City where his father had been frozen in carbonite. Understandably, his mother and uncle hadn't wanted to talk much about it, especially to a curious young boy.

"I know you still fear it," he finally broke the silence, watching her carefully as she studied the weapon. "But like the Force, it's greatest power is not in the hilt of the weapon, but in the hand of the user. It is your choice how you act, how you shape it. Think of all that you have accomplished today. Are you really going to let your fear best you?"

"I'm not afraid of the weapon," she said quietly, eyes slowly lifting to hold his. "I'm afraid of what it represents."

"You are strong with the Force, Rey. That will never change. But it's up to you to decide if you want to walk the path of the Jedi, or go your own way. Picking up that weapon won't change your fate," he smiled tightly. "Take me for example. That weapon defines me as a person, but does not choose my path. It is up to me to do that. Accepting the lightsaber does not mean you are bound to any path but the one you choose for yourself."

Slowly, her hand descended on the lightsaber and then rested over it, fingers wrapping around the hilt, lifting it up before her eyes. Nothing happened. She did not have a vision, no bolt of lightning struck her, she heard no cries of distant memories, experienced no disorientation or pull of the Force. She merely studied it. Then, without igniting the weapon, she slowly lowered it, holding it gingerly in both hands for a moment, before she copied him, slipping it into her vest pocket, hidden from view. She took a shaky breath, then met his gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She wasn't ready to know why it had chosen her, but she would not fear it.

The hyperdrive computer went off, signaling their close approach to Starkiller base.

"It's time."

Together they moved to the cockpit. He took the pilot's seat this time. While he trusted Rey's instincts, this was a tricky approach that he didn't dare risk her fledgling Force powers reliability on.

His father would have praised his recklessness.

Gripping the control column, he took a slow deep breath, clearing his mind, opening it to the flow of the Force around him, allowing his senses to extend. Ahead of them, he could sense the distant void that was the base, fast approaching. Hand resting on the hyperspeed throttle, he waited, then threw the controls as he sensed the shift in power around them. The world slammed into focus… an icy rock wall only feet in front of them.

A low curse on his breath, he hauled back on the steering console, slamming the sublight into full-speed to increase their forward momentum, thus directing the Falcon up and over the ridge of trees. A loud crack filled the cabin as they mowed down a pine, followed by the jarring sensation of tree limbs smacking the side of the hull, relentlessly jerking them from side to side as he threw the engines into full reverse.

"Can you GET any lower?!"

"If we get any lower, they'll see us!" he snarled, focusing all his effort on keeping the Falcon's nose up. With a violent impact, they slammed into the snow, sliding for a good length across an open field, before coming to rest butted up against a sheer cliff.

There was utter silence for an extended period of time as the sublight engines spun down. Only then did he slowly release his hands from the console, aware his knuckles were white and stiff from gripping it with all his might.

Rey's terse voice hissed in his ear. "Next time… I drive."

He honestly had no argument.

They grabbed their satchels, already packed with the gear they needed, spare weapons, explosives and fortunately a few warm parkas for the trek to the shield installation. Lowering the ramp they were hit by a blast of frozen air, stealing their breath away instantly. "Holy Hoth it's cold," Rey hissed, eyes wide.

He felt a twinge of sympathy for the desert nomad. Considering where she grew up, this place probably felt like hell for her. Not to mention the idea of frozen water was probably beyond her comprehension. "The shield installation is that way, on the other side of that rise."

"And, don't tell me, we have to walk."

"If you prefer, I can radio for a taxi. I'm sure they would be thrilled to escort us to the brig."

Rey grimaced. "Just shut up and lead the way, smart ass."

They started trudging through the snowy woods, heads low against the bitter wind. It was still light out, but that did little to break the temperature from stealing the warmth from their limbs. He'd forgotten how bitter and stark this place was. It had a certain deadly beauty to it, in a way. Uninhabited, but covered in foliage that thrived in hearty tenaciousness, the planet had an otherworldly feel of something on the brink of death. Considering the massive collection of power gathered deep beneath the planet's surface, he found it ironic that the top layer would be such a contradiction, thick with snow. They reached the rise, and gazed down at the snowfields below. Spread out like fingers, the network of metal conduits and antennae rose above the white ground ominously. A few towers were scattered about, indicating elevator lifts to the surfaces. He frowned, staring at the complex intently, as a strange tickle tugged at the back of his mind that made him highly uneasy.

"So we just hike over there and knock on the door?"

"Hardly." He pointed to the nearest tower. "We take the elevator down, and use the accelerated lifts to get there."

"...and we are going to do that just how?"

He lifted the name badge clipped beneath his parka. "These."

"You're awfully certain of this, aren't you?" she asked warily.

"No. But if it doesn't work, we have options."

Her expression hardened, and she shot him a dark look. "We're supposed to be subtle, remember?"

"I am well aware. There are other ways to move about undetected without drawing weapons, Rey."

She frowned, obviously still not liking the idea of him using his power to force their way in, be it mind trick, or something worse. "Just… let's be careful. I don't like this… I have this weird feeling in my gut that something's going to go wrong."

He frowned, glancing sharply at her. So she felt it too…

That wasn't good.

There was a thick forest between them and the edge of the base, just down the rise. It took them the good part of an hour to make their way down the cliff, keeping to the trees and opening their senses to any signs of detection. There was no need for sensor grids on the planet, given the Order assumed no one would be stupid enough to try and sneak through the shields onto the base. Nonetheless, as they moved silently towards the base, his gaze kept snapping to the sides, prickling senses down his neck, disquiet in his mind.

He didn't sense it until it was already too late.

Out of nowhere, something large and solid barreled into him, knocking the wind from his lungs and slamming him into the solid frozen ground. His only impression was of teeth, muscle, and a blur of white frost kicked up from the explosion of snow as his assailant took him to the ground in one powerful blow. A dark shadow descended over him, blotting out the hazy sun's light through the falling snow, massive bulk looming, teeth glinting, a hand raised high over him, claws glinting.

Distantly he was aware of Rey screaming his name.

He reacted out of instinct. Gripping the thick arm that held him down with both hands, he summoned his power into one tight compression and slammed it into the large creature, sending it flying backwards off of him, into the nearest tree, but that barely slowed it. Stumbling to his feet, it was on him again, massive mitt lifting him up by the throat, slamming him against the tree behind him. Dark spots danced before his eyes, his breath leaving him struggling to maintain a hold on his consciousness. His eyes focused, struggling to see… and met with a sudden familiar streak of blue beneath the shadowed brow. His breath caught sudden awareness flooding through him.

"Let him go!" A snap-hiss of bright light filled the dark woods, blue light overtaking the shadows as Rey thrust the lightsaber forward, her hands shaking slightly, but her face resolute. She looked as if she wanted to take a step forward, but he could feel the fear rippling through her in wild waves. She had never held the weapon before, and she was terrified if she attacked, she would instead strike him instead of the target.

She needn't have worried.

Taking advantage of his assailant's distraction Rey provided, his hand clamped down on the shaggy wrist holding his neck, and he focused his thoughts, connecting them with the other's.

Darkness, blood, madness, fear, rage… it flooded his mind in a confused jumble mixed with fever and sluggishness. It was unnatural, taking a keen mind and warping it into something terrifying. Lost was the comprehension, only a dim awareness of consciousness still tugging from buried within. He latched onto that, and ripped at the darkness, pulling the imprisoned mind free of the chemicals clouding it.

He had never used the Force in such a way. It was, in a sense, connected to healing, for that was exactly what he was doing… healing a portion of the broken drugged mind before him. It left him unexpectedly panting for breath, weak and heart fluttering wildly.

Slowly, the death-like grip around his neck eased, blue eyes suddenly focusing, staring at him with recognition.

"Ben."

Not breaking the startled gaze meeting his eyes, he eased out of the now calm mind that had finally managed to emerge, with it taking the last traces of the poison that had stolen Chewbacca's reason from him, depositing his thoughts of their plan, his intention to destroy the base, just in case the wookiee remembered who Ben actually was and decided to kill him again. The sick feeling of disorientation and searing fire that had been raging through the maddened wookiee mind was now burning in his blood, sapping his strength, making his vision swim, his forehead beading with sweat.

But it had the desired effect.

He was distantly aware that the last time the two of them had faced one another, they had been uncle and nephew, laughing at each other's jokes, pranking unsuspecting victims when their backs were turned.

Now… for all he knew the wookiee wanted to murder him.

Therefore, he was slightly surprised by the gentle giant's reaction.

Abruptly the pressure around his neck was gone, and he found himself wrapped up in a tight embrace of smelly, wet, filthy fur. Coughing as his lungs gasped in the air they had been denied, he weakly patted Chewbacca on the back, aware that both of them were trembling. The poison that Chewie had been pumped full with had been mixed together with tranquilizers and hallucinogens. He doubted that Chewbacca had even known much about where he was, or how long he'd been out there in the woods, but clearly enough of his sanity had been preserved in order to recognize the Falcon's arrival when he saw it, and seek them out. From the smell of him, it might have been days or weeks, the blood was dried on his fur, no fresh wound visible beneath the mat of snow and pine needles caught in his coat.

Gently, Chewbacca straightened, peering down at the boy he had known since birth, blue eyes studying the lopsided wig and crooked glasses perched awkwardly on his large nose. "Little one..." he growled in his native Shyriiwook, "You have grown." He carefully released him, posture still tense and wary, unsure what to make of his unlikely rescuer, but the relief at having clarity back in his mind stilling his concern.

He glanced over at Rey noticing she had lowered the lightsaber, though it was still ignited, blue glow illuminating the woods around them. He held a hand up to her, and she slowly relaxed, extinguishing the blade at his indication of all-clear. Turning back to Chewbacca, he took a deep breath, studying his father's life-long friend. "What are you doing here? Is HE here?"

Chewbacca nodded slowly, expression growing dark beneath his shaggy face. "They are keeping him here because of you." Two blunt fingers slammed into his collarbone, forcing him to take a small step back.

The wookiee quickly explained what had happened. During a cargo run transporting Rathtars, they had run into some kind of First Order blockade where their ship had been boarded by two gangs. The First Order had a high random for the smuggler, for obvious reasons, and so he had been turned over to them. Since then, Han and Chewie had become 'special guests', specifically of a rather smug General Armitage Hux, who knew the value of the prisoners when it came to the renegade traitor he was hunting. While being transferred to another cell, Chewbacca had been able to escape, not long before they had arrived, based on the drugs in his system. Han was still being held there, however, soon to be transferred off-base, ordered to be delivered to Snoke himself.

He felt an icy weight settle into his chest. So, that was it. "Damn. Well that complicates matters."

Chewbacca rumbled a low growl. "You owe it to him. You will rescue him."

"I owe him nothing!" he snarled back, eyes narrow. "Not after what he did."

"You can't possibly blame him for that!"

"Watch me!"

"He did what he could, you know he cared about what you were going through!"

"He sure didn't act like it!"

"You did not make it easy."

"Neither did he!"

"Hey, boys!" Rey's shout interrupted their argument, both of them turning to look at her, eerily similar glares encompassing both wookiee and man. "Mission now, argue later!" She pointed towards the base, where spotlights had illuminated, scouring the woods nearby.

He let out a choice curse. The lightsaber. They had picked up on the energy trace. "Fine," he spat out, blood still boiling at the idea of what he was about to do. He took a deep calming breath. His father always managed to bring out the worst in him, riling his temper. Now was not the time. "Go back to the Falcon," he directed to Chewbacca, placing a hand on the wookiee's matted shoulder, staring up into concerned blue eyes. "Take care of your wounds, and update the Resistance over the comms to let them know we'll be delayed…" The last thing they needed was the squadron dropping out of hyperspace and slamming into the planetary defense net, still fully operational. "Rey and I will find him then go and blow the shield station."

Chewbacca looked less than convinced at the sanity of his nephew, glancing to Rey then back to Ben. "You realize that it is a trap, little one? They are using him to get to you."

"It wouldn't be my father without making things complicated. Of course it's a trap," he grimaced, glancing at Rey, then back to Chewie, his expression easing. "We can take care of ourselves. Go. Get ready to leave at a moment's notice."

Without protest, the wookiee nodded and took off loping up the embankment back towards the ship.

"Nice friend you've got there," Rey said dryly. "Either he's trying to kill you, or you're having a moment."

"Chewbacca is all teddy bear under that rug," he grumbled. "He just wants people to think he's all fierce and dangerous. I don't think I've ever seen him actually do much more than hurl something at someone and snarl a lot. Though I wouldn't care to be on the receiving end of his bowcaster." Her eyes widened suddenly. He shot her an exasperated look. "Don't tell me you just now figured out who he is?"

She blinked and gave him a guilty look. "...yeah and who's ass we're about to save."

He slapped his face into his hand. "This is not how I anticipated this day was going to go."

They made their way to the elevator lift without detection, evading the spotlights, using his abilities to mask their presence until they were in the elevator, where they shed their parkas, and he donned the now rather ratty looking wig and crooked glasses again, Rey carefully tucking the lightsaber back into her vest.

"You really should slouch a bit," he shot her a stare. "You stand like you're the ruler of the galaxy," he clarified, pressing a hand on his broad shoulders, forcing him to hunch down a bit. "Don't walk like you're about to rip someone's throat out, or you're going to draw attention to us. We're supposed to be ordinary base personnel, act like it."

He hated this plan. Nevermind it was his plan.

The elevator opened up, and the two of them stepped out, warily glancing back and forth down the hallway, which fortunately was empty. "This is not going to work," Rey muttered.

"Why didn't you say so before?" he hissed back at her, feeling a hot flush rush to his pale cheeks.

"I did say so before."

They made their way down the hallway and turned into the central corridor, where people were moving about. It was all he could do to hunch appropriately, avoid eye contact, and keep his hand at the ready in case the worst happened and any of the personnel recognized one of the most feared commanders of the base, disguised as simple staff.

No one even batted an eye at them.

Well I'll be damned. This plan might actually work after all.

Despite that, the two of them both breathed a slight sigh of relief as they turned off the main corridor, and stepped into a computer alcove. "Ok… where do we need to go?" Rey whispered, craning her neck to look out the door just in case they had been spotted.

"I'm checking." His fingers swept over the computer, then froze. It was most definitely not smart to use his personal code to access the system. Even if it worked, it would no doubt be a huge red flag to the fact he was here, as they monitored every workstation access.

"Hurry up!" Rey hissed, eyes wide as she noted a few curious glances their way.

Uttering a low curse, he punched in his code, biting his lip as he hit the final sequence. "If this doesn't work we're going to have to get out of here in a hurry." He half expected alarms to start screaming as his finger punched the execute button.

To his suspicion, it worked. The computer database sprung up before them, no alarms, no signal of detection.

He urged himself NOT to think what he wanted to think. Yeah. Trap. Definitely a trap.

Deftly he pulled up the prisoner records, a task he was intimately familiar with, and scanned the list. "He's not on it," he said darkly.

"What? You think he was taken off the base?"

"No, most likely they've changed his name in the database so we can't do what we're trying to do. Hold on a moment." Kriff it all, he should have done this first and not risked being discovered by hacking into the system… but there was a reason he'd avoided it. The LAST thing he wanted to do was sense his father's presence. Frowning, he shut his eyes and reached out with his feelings, keeping a wary hold on the walls of his mind to ensure Snoke did not sense his thoughts. It was risky, using his powers like this so close to the base. Snoke had as of yet been keeping his distance, unable to find him, and he did not like it one bit. It was unlike the Supreme Commander to leave him alone like this, especially for as long as he had.

There! A brush of familiar thoughts. "He's here. Two floors down in cell AA-23."

Rey sighed in relief. "Right… two floors, we can do this." Slipping out of the alcove, she led the way as he followed.

But that uneasy feeling still followed him. This is too easy…

They made it to the lift, punching the command into the control panel, stepping inside but were forced to step back to make way as a sudden flood of people entered the lift from what appeared to be one of the cafeterias to the left.

"And I said, Dave you realize the last thing those lips touched was a Tardesian Slave girl!"

Raucous laughter filled the lift at what obviously was the butt-end of a joke. A short round-faced bearded man in stormtrooper armor, sans helm, threw them an appraising glance, before elbowing the officer standing next to him, who glanced back casually then turned forward again.

He certainly didn't miss the way the man's eyes snapped to Rey, and quickly skirted up and down on the lithe girls' frame despite the ugly uniform. A sudden surge of heat threatened to overwhelm him, and shifted his position so that he was standing in front of Rey between the two men.

"You really should put your helmet on, Tim," the officer was saying calmly. "You know what happened last time you were caught breaking the dress code outside of the mess hall."

Tim snorted. "Seriously? You think anyone around here gives two shits about dress code anymore? You seen how Hux is these days? The man's even more psychotic now that he's running the show." Rey's wary glance his way told him the murderous expression on his face was probably close to breaking their cover. "I mean, the other day I saw Steve playing sabacc and drinking on duty. With that loud-mouthed duty officer, what was her name?"

"Leslie."

"Yeah, her."

"If you ask me, this whole base has gone to shit. Ever since that dour bucket-headed bastard left." The elevator creaked ever so dangerously. Both men glanced up startled, and he felt Rey closer her hand around his elbow, squeezing tightly with a gentle nudge to try and quell his anger. The elevator's creaking subsided. "Weird… You guys better check on that," Tim said, frowning.

"Of course sir," Rey said chipperly.

"So what do you think?" Tim craned his head back at them, his gaze hesitating on the look of murder dancing in "Matt's" eyes, and he took a half step back. "Whoa, man. Someone needs to lay off the caffe."

"He's had a rough day," Rey cut in, this time subtly stomping on the thick boot covering his foot beneath the green jumpsuit in an attempt to stem what was about to be a VERY bad day for Tim. "He just found out he's being transferred."

Well, how about that. Rey's a gifted actress.

"Huh." Tim eyed him uncertainly. "To where?"

"Garbage duty," Rey said matter-of-factly, then lowered her voice, whispering in a loud conspiring voice that was completely conspicuous. "He complained cleaning out the conduits was work for first-level technicians. Apparently his boss didn't think so."

"See?" Tim threw his hands up. "Something like that, Zack. It's shit like that which doesn't make sense… This guy gets punished for saying something, Steve sleeps in and is late for his shift and no one notices," he shook his head sighing. "And Hux gets away with those damn all-night deck parties. It's a surprise to me that the Resistance doesn't just infiltrate the base and be done with it, we've as good as opened the door with a welcome mat out front."

Rey and Ben slowly exchanged looks with one another.

Enough of this farce.

With a flick of his wrist, both men were on the floor, unconscious. Rey shot him a scandalized look.

"It was a boring conversation anyway." He said testily. But under his breath, she swore she heard him say "...bucket-headed bastard." The slight kick to Tim's abandoned helmet cinched the comment.

The lift opened, and they stepped over the bodies, exiting into the detention hallway. Rey threw him a sideways glance. "...you do realize if we leave them here, they're going to die."

He just gave her a flat look. Smartly, she decided it was best to drop the subject.

The detention block was one of the long hallways with numbers painted on the side. Several security cameras were mounted at set increments, and a couple of stormtroopers were positioned on either exit. Considering they didn't want to set off alarms, disabling the cameras was a risky option, as was knocking out the guards. The two in the turbolift were going to be trouble enough, but considering no one expected Kylo Ren to waltz back onto the base when he was one of the First Order's most wanted, they could only hope no one would be quick on the uptake. Given the mouthy personality, it wasn't a stretch to say that the man lying unconscious on the lift's floor might not have many friends on the base. Instead, he took hold of Rey's arm to hold her still, and focused his power, fingers lifting slightly. One of the troopers turned their head. "Did you hear that?" The two of them took off walking down the hall, away from them.

"You really have got to teach me that trick." Rey muttered. "It's damn useful."

"Later," he promised.

They swiftly made their way down the hallway, scanning the cell block until they arrived in front of AA-23.

His hand hesitated over the controls, feeling a sudden clutch of dread in his gut. This was it… After six long years, after building himself up to loathe and hate the man who had helped birth him, who had abandoned his only son to the nightmares and darkness, he was about to confront Han Solo at last.

He honestly didn't know what he was going to do, say or think when it came right down to it. Nothing had changed in his mind regarding his father, he still held a deep-seeded resentment towards the man for how he had acted during his youth. Selfish, conceited, and cowardly, he had abandoned his son when all he'd wanted was acceptance. That burning hatred had followed him all the way into the darkest recesses of his mind, morphing who he had been into a dark monster of nightmares. He knew it wasn't the sole reason for his fall into darkness, but it was a damn good chunk of it.

And he found himself desperately wishing someone might happen upon them and prevent him from opening this door.

Unfortunately, his luck appeared to have abandoned him.

He hit the button.

The cell was sparsely lit, with only a latrine and a bunk. The man lying there was worn and bloodied, slumped on the bunk with his back to them, clothes torn and stained, grey hair mussed, looking for all the world as if he were dead.

He found he suddenly couldn't move, a cold grasp of terror sweeping through him.

A laughing face accompanied strong arms sweeping the small boy up, tossing him into the air then catching him as he came down laughing. "Damn kid, you're a natural! Best flight I've seen yet! Seems like you've earned your name today."

Pride beamed forth from the young boy's face, brown eyes wide with glee at his father's praise. "I can do it faster." He wasn't boasting, he was certain.

"Hey, slow down kid… don't want to have ol' Chewie picking up your pieces after ya."

"I can do it!" The fierce determination burned in his heart as he stared up at his father, desperate to prove himself. "I know I can do it. The computer was slowing me down."

"Whoa, hold on there…" Large hands encompassed his shoulders, holding him firmly on the ground as he had turned to run back up the ramp. His father's face looked somber, slightly worried. "Flying through the asteroid belt without a computer is suicide, kid. Now I'm good, but even I'm not THAT good."

"I am!"

"Sure kid…"

"I AM!" For the first time in his life, he saw fear in his father's eyes. Swallowing hard, he suddenly realized that all around them, the ground was shuddering, rocks rolling away from them, as if an invisible hand was pushing them UP the hill, defying gravity.

Fear. Of him. Of his son. His own father thought him a monster, a freak. And he had left him. Because he was a coward.

Rey uncertainly glanced up at him noticing his face had gone stark white, shoulders tense, arms rigid at his side, gaze locked on the slumped form in front of him. Six years of loathing, six years of avoidance, six years of hatred. There was no mistaking the conflict swelling within him, taking over every single one of his faculties in that long moment.

And yet, here he was, saving his father nonetheless.

Nothing could possibly explain the churning depth of emotions roiling in his mind at that moment.

As if sensing the electric atmosphere, the figure on the bench moved, head lifting, and a tired worn face peered up at them, blue eyes sharp and squinting out from above a bruised cheek with a slightly crooked nose that appeared to have been broken and set once too many times. "...aren't you a little too attractive for a radar geek?"

Rey's face went pink. "Um." Throwing a glance to her silent frozen companion, she decided it was up to her and rushed forward, kneeling beside the bunk, trying to push past the mixed emotions of wonder and excitement of meeting one of her heros. "My name is Rey. We're here to rescue you."

Despite his obvious injuries, Han Solo sat up quickly, all focus and no wit. "Great. Took you long enough. Got a blaster?" Rey shook her head quickly. "Wonderful," Han muttered, pushing himself to his feet, a bit unsteady, but his expression intense. "Where's Chewie?"

"He's back on the ship waiting for us. Come on, we have to get out of here… Someone's bound to know that the door's been opened. And we got in here way too easy." Rey slung his arm over her shoulder, and Han gratefully accepted the help, limping slightly as they moved to the door. It was all he could do to move aside to permit them to pass, his gut wrenching painfully at the look of sympathy Rey shot his way. His father hadn't even looked at him, didn't even recognize him.

Well, he was wearing that horrid wig. It was his own fault.

"Wait." They drew up just short of the door as Han discreetly craned his neck to peer down either side of the corridor. "We can't leave without Poe."

"Poe Dameron's here?" Rey's eyes widened, and he felt a sense of dread rise within him as her eyes met his with sudden alarm. This was getting more and more complicated by the minute. "Where?"

"I don't know," Han admitted grimly. "Last I heard he was being interrogated on D-deck. But that was two days ago, who knows where the kid's at now."

Why are we risking our lives for this strange pilot who was foolish enough to get himself captured?

Brow furrowing, his gaze swept down to his father's awkward stance. That leg looked to be in bad shape, let alone whether the man could even hold a blaster in a fight in his condition. Which meant their escape was going to be risky. Even more so if they all went to find the pilot. There was no way they were making a hasty escape if they had to take it slow. Which meant only one thing.

Shit.

Making a decision, he grit his teeth, and put a hand on Rey's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "Their weapons should be in that locker." He pointed at the wall where a row of lockers were mounted opposite the cells. "Take him back to the Falcon," he instructed. The moment he had spoken, Han had drawn himself upright, eyes widening as at last he recognized the face of his son, frozen in shock. It was all he could do to ignore the piercing blue eyes desperately searching his own as he focused on Rey. "I'll go after Dameron, disable the shields and meet you back there."

"Ben…" Rey hissed, "You can't! If you're caught…"

"I know," he intoned darkly. She didn't have to remind him what would happen. He was well aware of the the uneasy knot in his gut, reminding him that this whole thing was a mistake. "It's too risky for the three of us. It's a straight shot up two levels to the surface elevator. If you run into trouble, remember the pen."

Her green eyes hardened with determination. "I'll meet you back there."

In that moment as he stared at her face flushed with emotion, those captivating eyes locked on his and he felt something else… a deep sense of foreboding, a pressure from within that screamed at him to stop what he was doing.

Stars… what am I doing? He felt dizzy, and it was all he could do to hold her gaze, aware his mouth was dry and his heart pounding as if he'd run a marathon.

Still, he couldn't help this nagging feeling that he might not see her again.

"I promise."

Tearing his gaze from hers, he permitted himself to finally meet his father's eyes. In silence, they stared at each other, silent understanding passing between them.

You came back.

He wasn't sure if those were his own thoughts, or that of his father's.

Somehow it didn't really matter.

"Give me thirty seconds, then go," he instructed, drawing himself up to his full height, chin lifting as his expression went blank, focus sweeping into his mind. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead he turned and headed down the hallway, boots clicking sharply with each step. He heard his father's sharp intake of breath, as if he were about to yell after him, but the situation being what it was, he was glad that he did not.

Kylo Ren was back in his element.

The stormtroopers at the end of the hallway had been chatting idly with one another; they never saw him coming. A snap of his heel had him turn the corner, deftly stepping over their unconscious bodies. It was risky blowing his cover this way, he knew. But if he was to give Han and Rey a chance to escape, he had to draw attention to himself. Besides, he had a feeling considering how easy it had been, they knew he was here already, and were preparing to ambush him. Still, they still had time to fetch Poe and plant the explosives. Even if he had to go in by himself and do it, which he was fully prepared to do. He felt the darkness swell around him, power summoning to his fingertips once more, raw and begging to be released. No one would stop him. No one could. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the alarms start to sound as he stepped off the lift and strode down the hallway, expression focused and clouded with anger. A couple of stormtroopers burst into the hallway, stopping short seeing him, and started to raise their blasters. He lifted his hand without looking, and they became wall ornaments.

There was, unfortunately a small complication. D-deck was three full levels below the detention level, between which was a substation, and a hangar. And he became fully aware that he was getting in over his head the moment he stepped off the lift into the hangar, blaster rifles charged, aiming straight for him.

He blinked slowly, dark eyes slowly shifting across the gathered weaponry, then paused on a familiar ginger-haired face flustered and furious storming across the hangar bay.

General Hux looked absolutely livid. His pale cheeks were flushed, icy blue eyes filled with fury. Despite that, a wry smirk crossed his face as his eyes snapped appraisingly up and down his rival's towering frame. "You look ridiculous, Ren," he said snidely, lips curling into a sneer as he studied the green jumpsuit, orange vest, and wig slightly askew permitting his natural dark hair to poke out from beneath. "As if you did not look absurd before."

His lips pressed together tightly, aware a few of the stormtroopers were looking suddenly nervous. Clearly Hux had not informed them of the identity of the intruder.

More's the pity, whispered a dark corner of his mind.

"I thought the Supreme Commander had finally cracked when he ordered we not send forces to hunt you down. But clearly he understands you better than I realized. I never thought you would be foolish enough to return. Fortunate I had the personnel scanning for any signs that you were that stupid." A mocking smile crossed over his thin lips. "Saving your own father… And here you claimed Ben Solo was long dead. Seems you were mistaken after all…"

"Move." The single word was dark, laced with threat and overtones of promised violence. He could feel the murderous rage rising to his control, begging to be released, asking to wipe that disgusting smirk from Hux's face. It was long in coming.

"Do you really think you can defeat everyone in this base, Ren?" Hux asked mockingly, slightly turning his head to emphasize his point as the cargo bay doors opened, more stormtroopers flooding the room, blasters at the ready. "You're even more deluded than I thought."

The boiling pit of anger and fury was begging to be released as his lips pressed into a thin fine line, dark brown eyes pools of black as they bore into Hux. Despite the rising animalistic need to rip Hux's throat out, he realized there was something else nagging at the back of his mind… mocking him, laughing at him.

Snoke…

The Supreme Commander knew where he was, at last. He had drawn enough attention to himself by opening his powers, and had Hux to thank as well, no doubt. He had been so overwhelmed by emotions, his walls had been breached. He could FEEL his master's presence, nails in his head, vice-like grasp on his soul, bearing down like an oncoming storm.

Well, there was no need to hide any longer, then.

With a roar, he lashed out. The stormtroopers were taken by surprise as an invisible force slammed into them, knocking them flat on their backs, weapons flying as the tall man barreled through them as if they were toy soldiers. With one fluid motion, his lightsaber was in his hand, unstable blade flashing across the hangar, sending blaster bolts flying back to the source, a furious pinwheel of red light as his long strides carried him across the hangar. White armored bodies scattered, some fleeing, some flying as he mercilessly tore into them, never stopping, a relentless juggernaut of power as he charged towards the opposing door across the room.

He was in his element. Rage and raw emotion poured off of him, encompassing him in a blanket of emotion, shielding his thoughts from anything other than his goal. He cared little for who saw him now, or what happened to them. A sharp jerk of his hand brought a TIE fighter crashing down on top of twenty troopers, a sweep of his blade sent a shockwave barreling into ten more. Dimly he felt the sting of a blaster slamming into his back, but it went ignored, rage numbing his pain, driving him onwards.

His lightsaber came up sharply, blocking a blaster bolt, sending it flying back to the trooper who had unleashed it, however that proved a dangerous mistake. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the flash of light, and reacted instinctively, blade lifting to block it.

He realized too late, it was not a blaster, but a modified verpine cannon. The blast struck his saber, and he felt the shockwave slam into the beam, channeling down into the hilt, molten heat causing the crimson light to flare bright, dim, then erupt in a brilliant uncontrolled geyser of light and death. Instinctively, he hurled the weapon away from him, just in time.

An explosion rocked the hangar as vermillion light blinded them, a piercing shriek of frequencies better used to bleed the life out of prisoners erupted from the hilt of his blade. Shards ricocheting across the room, slamming into anything in it's way.

A sharp piercing pain slammed into his palm as he lifted it to shield himself, blown backwards with violent force from his own weapon's detonation. His head impacted something solid, and the world fell out from beneath him, darkness clawing at him, dragging him down as his body went limp against the deck. His eyes half-opened, resisting the call of the darkness, struggling to push himself back to his feet, searing pain slamming into his mind, his very soul, like molten lava. The blood pounding through his ears drowned out all other noise, only his instincts left, as he lifted his bleeding hand, bringing every blaster bolt racing towards him to a dead stop mid-air.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, all eyes rooted on the fearsome sight, blood dripping down his forehead, eyes gleaming with unholy light, hand outstretched demonstrating the raw power at his disposal for all to see.

Within his head, Snoke's laughter echoed, growing louder.

Ben Solo crumpled to the floor unconscious.

The laughter remained.

* * *

Notes:

And now things get interesting...

Coming up, our favorite pilot and stormtrooper join the party!

Next Chapter: The Escape


	10. Chapter 10: The Escape

_He will destroy you. I will destroy you, and become more powerful than you can imagine._

 _No. You are a mistake. I know who I am. I don't need you anymore._

 _You will always need me, Ben Solo. And you will never be rid of me. Our legacy ensures that our fates remain bound together eternally. Your grandfather knew this, your father knew this. Your mother fears it. Your Uncle dreads it. They all know, so why do you still deny me the power I need to fulfill our destiny?_

 _Rey is beyond your grasp._

 _We shall see._

* * *

Notes: A slight deviation for a time away from Ben's PoV to Finn instead. Because who doesn't want to get into Finns' head!

* * *

Chapter 10: The Escape

Of all the things that he had seen in his life, few things had shaken FN-2187 to the core like that moment in the hangar.

One man against a hundred. He had been like a devil, laser sword felling all in his way, untouchable by any shot that came near him, reflecting them back without even looking. The screams, the blood, the fire, all had fallen away as one pair of eyes remained riveted on the shadow of death tearing through the ranks as if they were paper.

FN-2187 was utterly terrified.

Shaking, his blaster rifle sat forgotten in his hands, eyes widely staring behind the visor of his helmet as the man gestured and brought a TIE fighter crashing down on top of the gathered men to his right. A TIE fighter!

He was wounded, blood running down his face, dark hair exposed, the poor disguise long shed behind him on his violent rampage. Still, he pressed on, unstoppable against the sea of red beams barreling his way. He was like a demon, untouched by the world, intent on destruction.

An explosion made FN-2817 stagger back on his feet, falling behind a cargo container, shielding his eyes from the sudden intense red light that filled the hangar. Uncertain what had caused it, he peered out from behind the plasteel, breath coming in short torn bursts behind his filtered mask, unable to rip his eyes off the man holding his own against an entire squadron.

And then, abruptly, everything came to a sudden halt. The man stood stock-still, eyes wide and feverish, hand outstretched, uneven splotches of light all around him, blaster fire frozen in the air around him, hissing energy crackling loudly in the stillness of the scene.

And then he dropped.

The blaster bolts continued on their paths with a snap of energy and shower of sparks, dissipating into the wall behind him harmlessly.

The hangar was eerily silent, save for the groans of the wounded and dying.

"Damn it." General Hux stormed forward, miraculously untouched by the bloody scene that had left more than three quarters of the men in the room laying unmoving at his feet. He kicked the unconscious form of the dark-haired man, getting no response. "Phasma!" He barked into his wrist communicator. The platinum-clad commander strode forward from the hallway, fresh troops behind her. "Clean up this mess. See to it our 'guest' is taken to suitable chambers and contained appropriately. See he is taught a lesson as well."

"Yes sir."

Time then seemed to resume. FN-2187 could hear the moans of his comrades, see the bright red flecks of blood marring the white armor of men he knew. From his position on the floor, he felt his armor rattling with the intensity of his shaking.

The man was limp as two troopers scooped him up by his shoulders, head loling to the side, face deathly white, black hair plastered to his forehead with blood and sweat. In that moment, FN-2187 felt a strange detached jolt down his back, a prickle on his neck as he realized something.

He was just a man. Just one. And he had done all this.

Not just a man, Kylo Ren.

Certainly he knew of Kylo Ren, who didn't? The image that was conjured was of a tall black-cloaked man, face forever hidden behind a severely frightening helmet, power wrapped around him like a cloak, slaughtering any who got in his way. The Master of the Knights of Ren was pure power, pure discipline. The right hand of the Supreme Leader. The Commander no one dared question.

And yet beneath the mask, he was just a man. He looked like he could have been anyone.

The revelation was startling to him. How could one man possess so much strength, yet look as weak as any other as he was dragged off to his prison? What had driven him to such extremes, to such determination? The look in his eyes had been pure madness….

But also something more.

He wasn't sure what it was. A chill, was the best way to describe it. FN-2187 had known it before even entering the hangar, before the fighting even started. The way the man had stood there, facing the men with blasters aimed at him, completely non-plussed, it had sent shivers down his spine.

Was he a coward for feeling this way? He wasn't entirely certain, considering the ease in which the man had laid his comrades to rest.

And now, he was just like the rest of them.

Swallowing hard, he pulled himself to his feet, watching as the troopers dragging the man disappeared around the corner. All around him, the moans of his comrades reminded him of the slaughter that had just taken place.

Glancing down at his rifle, he dropped it like it had burned him.

 _This wasn't what he'd signed up for._

"You." Captain Phasma's voice rang out loudly, commanding and completely unphased by the slaughter around her polished boots. He looked up quickly, stiffening as she stopped before him. "Follow them, ensure the prisoner does not wake up on his way to the cell block. If he does, shoot him." There was a long uncomfortable pause. "And pick up your weapon." He could feel her eyes bearing down on him, knowing exactly why he'd dropped it to crouch behind the containers. Cowardice. "FN-2187, you will report to reconditioning once your task is complete. We cannot have hesitant soldiers on this base right before it's first test."

She didn't wait for an answer, she never did. Perhaps that was the only reason FN-2187 could get away with standing there, staring after her, blaster at his feet.

A swell of displacement gripped him.

He didn't belong here.

It had all started with the pilot. Up until that point, his life had been simple. Clean the garbage unit, inspect it routinely, from time to time feed the pit monster. It wasn't glamorous work, but it saw him avoiding the battlefront. But then he'd been called in to help corral the pilot that had been captured and brought in for questioning. The sight of the bloodied man's defiant face had startled him. Why would anyone be brought in looking as if they had been beat over the head with a bantha prod? It didn't make sense. The First Order was about order and discipline. All the prisoners he'd witnessed being brought it had always been compliant, polite, as it should be.

But that pilot had stared back at his captors with a bold strength of defiance Not from arrogance, nor stupidity, but from purpose.

And then Han Solo had been brought in.

Han, freaking SOLO.

FN-2187 might have grown up like all the other trooper initiates, sheltered and conditioned to see things from the Order's perspective. But even HE knew of the achievements of the great Rebellion General. Even HE knew such a man was far above him in terms of importance and meaning.

And they had beaten him to a bloody pulp on the deck, mocking him.

He had been shaken after that. Questions had begun to form in his mind. However, he assured himself that this was how things were, that there had to be good reason for them. After all, they were enemies so to speak.

Weren't they?

Stopping in a small alcove, FN-2187 tore his helmet off, gasping as the cool stale air assaulted his sweat-stained face. Dark skin flushed, eyes wide, he stared at nothing as he thought back to the destruction painting the floor red in the hangar.

Why would Kylo Ren turn on his own?

He shuddered, placing his helmet down on the console, sinking into the seat, feeling his knees shaking.

Truth be told, the moment he knew that he didn't belong here had come long before any prisoner had arrived. It was the moment he overheard two officers discussing which planet to test their newly operational weapon on.

Two populated planets.

The thought made him him want to heave.

He couldn't just stand by anymore. It wasn't right. He was participating in something so far out of his reach, so atrocious, that if he remained, he would stain his own hands with the blood of innocents merely by standing by and doing nothing.

He had never been brave. He considered himself to be a preservationist. And since preserving his own life meant fleeing towards something less annhialistic, he was willing to risk it.

Plus, it was the right thing to do.

He briefly doubted his sanity. _Was he REALLY going to do this?_

Biting down on his lip, he considered the facts. Kylo Ren was powerful. If he could free him, getting off the base would be far easier. Plus, there was something tugging at him… something that told him he needed to do this. But he couldn't free the man alone, he was going to be far too heavily guarded. He needed help.

A thought sprang to mind. The Resistance pilot. With all the attention on their new arrival, he was more likely to be the easier target. If he could free the pilot, together they might be able to get Ren free. And three was better than two. Better than one.

Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, feeling the quake in his hands as he pulled the helmet back on. He had no idea what drove him to this, no clue WHY he felt compelled to save a man who had just slaughtered upwards of a hundred men single-handedly. But something deep in his gut told him it was the right thing to do. And he never ignored his gut. It was uncannily accurate, usually.

It was easy enough making it to the proper detention level where the pilot was being held. As expected, the chaos from Ren's attack had disrupted normal routines, making it easy to approach the proper cell and punch in the codes undetected. Carefully sticking his foot in the door jam to prevent the auto-hydraulics from shutting behind him, he peered into the cell. A dark-haired man lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, bored expression on his face as he lay sprawled on the metal bunk. At the opening of the door, he'd sat up, watching warily, old bruises and signs of Hux's overly-enthusiastic torture methods evident.

"Come with me." FN-2187 intoned, cocking his gun with authority.

The man stared at him, but rose to his feet, bound wrists flexing slightly as his arm was grabbed and he was led out of the cell. No one gave them a second glance as they marched down the hallway. With a discreet turn of his head, he took a sharp right, and shoved the pilot into a side-corridor, slamming the door behind them before he sighed in relief being out of sight. "Listen to me… if you do exactly as we say, we might just get out of here alive."

The pilot blinked obviously not having expected that. "What?"

Tilting his helmet forward, FN-2187 dropped it on the ground, aware the pilot was eyeing him oddly. "This is a rescue. I'm getting you out of here! Can you shoot a blaster?"

Slow recognition crossed over the pilot's face. "You with the Resistance?"

Confusion bloomed in his mind. "No, I'm helping you escape!"

Recognition dawned. "You need a pilot."

"I need a pilot," he agreed. Flying was one of the elite trooper programs, not for garbage-workers. "And I need someone to help me break out one more person."

"Han Solo?" The expression of focus filled the pilot's face, eyes intense.

"No… He's already escaped."

"What?" the pilot's eyes widened. "When?"

"Just now…" FN-2817 swallowed hard, feeling the fear pound through his chest. "The whole base is on alert. We're not going to be able to get out of here easily. Which is why we need his help."

Suspicion flooded the pilot's face. "Who's help?"

"Kylo Ren."

The look directed back at him briefly made him wonder if he just might have utterly lost his mind. "You've _got_ to be joking."

"No!" he hissed, voice low. "You didn't see him! He tore in here and cut through a hundred men by himself before they took him down! They're taking him off the base, if we don't act now, I have a really bad feeling we're not going to be around to regret it."

The pilot grimaced, lifting his cuffed hands to rub his face. "Wait, wait… let me get this straight. You're rescuing me." A quick nod. "We're getting off this death-trap." Another nod. "You want to break through a heavily guarded cell to rescue one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy." A hesitant nod. "So he can help us escape." He didn't bother this time.

When the pilot put it like that… it did sound a bit absurd.

"Why the hell would we not just make a run for it, steal a TIE fighter and bugger out of here. Leave that murdering bastard to rot."

"Because he defected."

The pilot stared. "Defected. _Kylo Ren_ defected."

"Yup." FN-2187 held his gaze, refusing to back down, despite the qualm in his gut. True, he didn't actually KNOW that Kylo Ren had defected. But given that all of this had started when Han Solo, who apparently was the man's father, had been broken out from his cell, the fact that the Master of the Knights of Ren had been missing for over a year, had a bounty on his head the size of Jabba the Hutt's treasury, and had just cut down a large chunk of what once had been his own soldiers… yeah the evidence leaned pretty strongly in that direction.

"Well, all right then." Just like that, the pilot relented, holding his hands up. Quickly the cuffs were removed, and the pilot rubbed his wrists, frowning. "Got a blaster?" He held up his rifle, the only one he had. "Well, then a plan at least?"

"Um."

A loud sigh of frustration filled the room. "Okay then… we wing it."

* * *

Everything around him felt unfocused, distorted, distant. He could feel the searing pain slamming into his back with each strike of the shock rod, scoring bare flesh, drawing blood. Fists pummeled his ribs, hard metal impacting his face jerking his head back sharply. He could feel the blood dripping down his forehead, trickles of crimson staining his blurred vision.

It was all nothing compared to the sensation of nails slamming into his head from Snoke's relentless mind.

He couldn't tell where he was, though he dimly knew he was not yet dead. Death didn't hurt this much. He had the distinct impression of leering faces spitting insults at him as his captors beat the helpless prisoner bloody. He knew he was to be kept alive, he'd heard them talking. He was to be taken to Snoke. Which explained the drugs they had pumped into his body in order to sedate his struggles and dull his connection to the Force. He could barely feel it there, just out of reach, throbbing past the vice in his head locking it down. Snoke's laughter still echoed in there, mocking him relentlessly for his foolishness, his weakness.

He had failed. Not only his former master, but Luke, his mother, Rey… everyone. His foolish actions had resulted in his capture, and now there would be no going back. Kylo Ren was watching him, deep from the shadows of his mind, lurking closer to the surface than he had ever been since he had turned away from Snoke a year ago. He could feel him pacing relentlessly in his head, that barely contained fury lashing against Ben Solos' last remaining barriers, waiting, patiently, to be released.

But now they were both imprisoned, thanks to Snoke.

He could feel the loathing emanating from his alter ego, anger and injustice. He had been loyal, had been dedicated, unlike the foolish boy he once had been. In a moment of weakness, the boy had wrested control and locked him away, kept him at arm's length to only emerge when HE felt it necessary to abuse his power.

And Kylo Ren did not like being used this way. Nor did he like being made a fool of.

 _This is your fault._ The deep mechanical voice echoed in his mind, accusing, hateful. _If you were not my weakness, I would be leading this battle, destroying my enemies, proving myself to him._

 _If you were not my weakness, I would not be here arguing with myself._ He thought back distractedly. He hated this feeling of duality. He was one person, not two. But the more he fought the two halves of himself, the more he felt himself splitting apart. It had been Kylo Ren who had rampaged through the base with wanton destruction, but it had been Ben at the controls, directing him like a trained dog.

 _He will destroy you. I will destroy you, and become more powerful than you can imagine._

His cracked lips twitched in the darkness, bound wrists tensing in the bindings suspending him from the ceiling. He grimaced, his eyes cracking open, darkness swimming before him. _No. You are a mistake. I know who I am. I don't need you anymore._

Cold laughter filled his mind. _You will always need me, Ben Solo. And you will never be rid of me. Our legacy ensures that our fates remain bound together eternally. Your grandfather knew this, your father knew this. Your mother fears it. Your Uncle dreads it. They all know, so why do you still deny me the power I need to fulfill our destiny?_

Sparkling green eyes filled his mind, dancing with laughter, the smell of flowers stinging his nose.

 _The scavenger!_ Rage rose within him, but stayed contained to the mental prison he had locked down around the darkness taking form of the masked nightmare of his soul. _Your feelings for her will destroy her… and you._

He remained silent. For once, Kylo Ren was right.

The nails in his head abruptly stopped, as Snoke inexplicably released him. A wash of calm spread through him, as his head bowed forward, world swimming dizzily before him as he allowed a slight smile to cross his face.

 _Rey is beyond your grasp. And it will all soon be over once they blow this planet into stardust._ He felt a wash of peace. Soon his torment would be over, and he would join his grandfather in a far better place where the two sides of his soul were no longer at war with one another. His mission would be complete.

 _We shall see._ The ominous words sent a chill down his spine, Kylo Ren's smug mocking tone lingering in his mind as he heard a sudden commotion outside of his cell door.

Without warning, harsh light spilled into the room, temporarily blinding him.

"Damn… Ok, come on, grab his arms, we gotta get him down from there." Hands were fumbling with the cuffs binding his chafed wrists over his head, and he got a hazy impression of two faces staring up at him warily.

"You sure this is the guy? He looks like a strong wind could just blow him over."

"I'm sure," the first voice said, tone completely certain.

A sudden sensation of weightlessness made his stomach lurch as gravity took hold. But it was quickly interrupted by hands lifting his arms over supportive shoulders, helping him to his knees before he toppled over. "Kriff, he's heavier than he looks…. Look, Finn this isn't going to work. We can't carry him out of here. He's just going to slow us down!"

"We won't get far with the base on lockdown!" the other hissed. "Unless you're packing a couple of thermal detonators I don't know about!"

"We're not getting out of here by running anywhere fast. It's time for Plan B."

"Plan B? We have a Plan B?"

"The hangar's just past this hallway. We grab a TIE and get the hell out of here."

"We can't just leave him here!"

"Oh yes we can." The venom in the man's tone matched the disgust mirrored in his eyes as he stared at the slumped figure kneeling on the floor in front of them.

"No, Poe."

Poe Dameron stared at his companion. "No? Are you nuts?"

"We're not leaving him." There was something about the way the man spoke that stirred him into lifting his head, staring through the haze of drugs, focusing on his dark face and bright whites of the man's' eyes, locked firmly on his own. He dimly recognized the white armor, the fearful stare of wariness directed his way from a man more familiar with seeing a black shrouded masked vision of death. _A stormtrooper._ A tickle at the back of his mind, a gentle nudge told him the truth, despite his weakened state. _Curious…_

"Fine, then what's your plan?"

The resulting silence was not comforting.

A sharp sting to his cheek caused his vision to focus as a firm calloused hand grabbed his face, lifting him by the jaw, forcing his unfocused eyes to meet intense brown eyes set beneath a thick brow and blood-stained forehead. "Hey, come on, snap out of it. You need to get to your feet. We gotta figure this out, and we need you lucid enough to walk on your own."

Confusion bloomed in his mind as he struggled to fight through the haze of drugs making his limbs feel heavy, his mind sluggish. Nonetheless, forced his eyes to focus on the two men crouching in front of him, staring with uncertain expressions at a man both saw as the enemy. Cracked lips opened, a hoarse voice that did not sound like his own ground out the words, stronger than he felt. "...my lightsaber."

Both men's gaze shifted to a table to his right, and his gaze followed theirs, seeing the object of his thoughts laying there.

Or what was left of it.

He recognized part of the right half of the cross-hilt quillon, and the hilt, split down the middle, missing the top half. Nothing remained of the center portion however, other than a burnt-out husk, glitter of red dust still clinging to the scorched metal surface. Distantly he could feel the raw throbbing burn in his right hand where he had held it up to block the shockwave when his weapon had exploded.

"So… yeah. Can you shoot a blaster?"

He knew he couldn't. Not in his current state. His right hand hung useless, seriously damaged enough to make it pointless to try and grip anything at all with it. He doubted he could even pull the trigger and aim straight with his left hand, what little strength he had sapped away from exhaustion and drugs invading his system. "Help me up."

The two men took his arms, and he forced his feet to the ground, knees buckling at first, but after a moment, growing stronger as he summoned what little strength he had, taking a deep steadying breath. "I have a ship waiting."

"See! I knew it!" Finn threw a triumphant grin at Poe, who just shot the other a dark frown. "Where? Where is it?"

He frowned, grasping at the shadows in his mind, reminding himself of the pressing need to complete his mission. "We can't leave."

"What?" Both men said in tandem, staring at him, clearly not having anticipated that.

"There's something I must do first."

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Poe groaned, slapping a hand to his face. "This day just keeps getting better and better." He grimaced, then shot him a dark calculating look. "What could possibly be important enough to delay escaping a base crowded with men that will kill us on sight?"

"Blowing it up."

Poe blinked. "...right." He exchanged a startled glance with Finn, new respect for the man showing in his gaze as his eyes studied the pale drawn face before him. "So it _is_ true… Kylo Ren turned traitor to the Order."

 _Not as simple as that, pilot._ But he wasn't about to argue the trivial points of his split personality. "Turbolift 42-A. There are explosives stashed outside. We need to plant them inside the shielding station base. But first, we must disable the planetary shielding."

Finn and Poe exchanged equally dubious looks at the conditions that came with escape. "Right…" Poe said slowly. "And you're going to disable the shields… how? They had you locked up in here. Somehow I don't think they're going to just let you waltz into the command deck and ask nicely."

"My codes are most likely invalid by now." His mind was still struggling to find an answer through the haze of drugs. "We have to find someone else who has the authority to bring the shields down."

"Actually…" Finn spoke up, eyes brightening in thought, "I might know someone…"

Poe shot the man a look, but after a moment, nodded once, turning his attention back to the man kneeling on the floor beside him.

"Can you walk?"

"I'll manage." Fog still clouded his mind, his connection to the Force muted, but purpose gave him strength. He could do this. He had to. For his mother. For his father.

 _For Rey._

Finn ducked his head outside, staring in either direction before emerging when the coast was clear. Poe followed, gripping a stolen blaster rifle he'd appropriated from one of the guards they'd encountered. Given his lightsaber was destroyed and he doubted he could shoot the broad side of a freighter, he had no weapon; but then he had never needed one before. He just hoped he could summon his power in his drug-altered state of mind, or this was going to be a very short infiltration mission.

"Grabbing a ship is still the best option rather than hoofing it back through the base," Poe said darkly. "It's closer. We grab a ship, make for the outside, grab the explosives and set down at the shielding station." He glanced to Finn. "You able to do this on your own?"

"I'll get the shields down and meet you in the hangar." Finn's expression was firm, certain as he pulled his helmet back on, and took off marching down the hallway, leaving the pilot and the knight to continue on their own.

"Man…" Poe's dark eyes shifted to regard him, dubious at the exhaustion saturating his mind and his body, causing him to slump against the wall. "This is not how I thought this day would turn out. I'm still not completely sure I'm not hallucinating all of this. Trusting my life to a stormtrooper and…" his eyes snapped up and down the stooped frame of the man who once had instilled terror in all who encountered him, still not able to say the man's name without disbelieving his own words. "...I don't even know anymore."

"At least it will end with a blast."

Poe shot him an incredulous look at the small crack of humor.

Kylo Ren, cracking a joke. Yes, somewhere in the world, something had broken irrevocably.

Somehow, they made it to the hangar bay, which was still littered with the bodies of the men he'd slain without being detected. It had been a slow painful process, one filled with ducking into doorways and holding still as patrols passed. Nonetheless, it was giving Finn plenty of time to bring those shields down. They were placing a lot of faith in him, but oddly he felt no hesitation in doing so. Something about Finn struck him as capable and promising.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. The house of cards was about to fall down around the First Order, and they had no clue.

As they stood in the hangar doorway crouched in an alcove, Poe let out a low whistle, staring at him with a strange look. "You did that?" He didn't bother acknowledging the question, just stared back at him, dark eyes unblinking. "Remind me not to piss you off when you're at 100%."

Dozens of troopers and soldiers were between them and the row of TIE fighters. There was no way a firefight would work out to their advantage, and trying to pass themselves off as prisoners was pointless considering everyone knew his face now. As his gaze roamed the hallway, he felt a faint brush of familiar presence, and his gaze was drawn to a single stormtrooper standing in the opposite doorway across the hagar from them. After a heartbeat, the trooper gave them a very enthusiastic thumbs up.

So the shields were down.

They needed a distraction to continue.

His eyes scanned the room, searching for something… someone…

 _Perfect_. A faint smirk crossed his face. Closing his eyes, he reached down, grabbing onto the faint pull of the Force, struggling to maintain the connection past the drugs in his system, but managed to grab hold of the unlucky man's mind just long enough to have him spill his drink all over the command room's control panel. Electricity sparked followed by the loud blare of alarms, as every head swiveled to stare up at poor trooper Steve, whose sabacc cards scattered from his hand as he fumbled to catch the empty bottle of liquor, dripping all over the now-smoking electronic panel. A nudge of his mind pushed the liquid down the right wires, and the massive maw of the hangar doors began to open, force field dropping as chaos ensued within the large room, no one sure what was happening.

Poe looked baffled, but didn't question the luck of events, oblivious to the look of concentration focused on his face. "Come on!" Finn broke out into a run across the way, using the distraction to make directly for them as they targeted the nearest TIE fighter, Poe turned back to his dark shadow, grabbing his arm and slinging it over his shoulder, helping him move swiftly through the field of bodies.

They scrambled up the ladder, Poe shoving him into the tight cockpit behind Finn before sliding into the pilot's seat. It was a tight squeeze. The two-seater fighter had little wiggle room for a third person, and he was forced to hold onto the top rung of the ladder, feet planted on either side of the chairs Poe and Finn were seated in, bracing his arm against the bulkhead to keep his balance, crouching his head low as the door slammed shut above them. "Right… never flown one of these before." Poe muttered to himself, flipping the ignition switches, the TIE shuddering as it's engines ignited and began to spin up. He cast a glance up at him. "...anything I should know?"

"Don't' get hit," he warned in a low voice. "These ships don't have shields." He paused, then pointed. "And disconnect the docking cable."

"Right then, here we go!" Punching his fist over the disconnect switch, the docking cable that was re-charging the TIE's power supply broke off, slamming into the wall with a spark of energy as Poe pushed forward on the yoke, the ship responding instantly to his touch and bolting up toward the ceiling into the gaping maw of the launch corridor.

Gritting his teeth, bracing against the sudden assault of G-forces slamming into the small vessel, it was all he could do to focus his thoughts again, knowing he had to send word to someone that they were on their way. But his muddled senses couldn't get a hold on Rey's thoughts. He couldn't feel her, and he wasn't certain why, which unnerved him. It might have just been the drugs still muddling his control, but he also had a tight sensation in his chest that warned him of something else dangerously out of place. But he couldn't figure out what it was.

Finn snagged the explosives as the TIE stopped by the bunker, then they were racing across the snow field, staying low. It didn't take them long to reach the shielding station, setting down and scrambling out into the bitter cold. The base station was secure, no entry points guarded on the exterior, no need for that. As they approached, he punched his override code in, unsurprisingly not flinching when it denied him access. "Great… now what?" Poe asked, eyes scanning up the tall unyielding exterior of the facility.

"Think we can blast it?" Finn asked uncertainly aiming his gun at the door controls.

He caught the barrel of the gun as Finn lowered it, shooting the defecting trooper a look. "Do that, and you melt the mechanism, and we'll never get in."

"Then what?"

Turning his thoughts inwards, he lifted his left hand, right hand weakly clenching at his side, burning with searing fire as he aggravated the wound he had sustained. The intensity burning in his eyes, which made men cringe and turn away in terror, did not so much as impress the door. It stood there, unmoving.

Frustration swelled up within him at his sudden inadequacy. He had never before felt so powerless.

"Look, man… it's ok. We'll find another way in," Poe said uncertainly studying the anger written on his face.

Undaunted, he shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as he summoned his power, yanking on the resistant threads of the Force that dangled just out of reach. With a loud click, the door opened, warm air spilling out as he found the release mechanism and overrode the control panel. "Come on." He strode forward, ignoring the uncomfortable stares following him.

The interior of the shielding base was only lightly staffed, and they emerged into a darkly lit hallway, red lights splashing a macabre glow through the catwalks that fell away beneath them into an endless void of cold air. The smell of exhaust and plasma assaulted their noses, stretching down into a distant burn of brilliant light far below.

As he stared at the single bridge crossing the spans of catwalks, he was struck by something utterly undefinable, a vivid flash of red, smell of blood, and startled wide eyes. Swaying he gripped the railing in front of him for support, breath heaving suddenly as if winded.

 _This was where he had pushed his lightsaber through Han Solo's heart._

 _This was where he had murdered his father._

 _The vision…_

He was struck by an overwhelming sense of duality, confusion and anguish gripping him. His hand flexed at his side, blood dripping between his knuckles as the damage from his destroyed lightsaber screamed in his hand.

"Hey… stay here." Poe's firm hand gripped his shoulder. "We'll plant the explosives, just hang tight." Glancing at Finn he nodded. "Every other column should do it. You take the top, I'll take the bottom. Meet back here."

"Got it!"

The pair moved swiftly, placing the charges while he stared at the catwalk, a raw sense of horror blooming in his chest at the emotions it elicited. Something about the gaping maw of darkness below the thin bridge drove him trembling to his knees.

He was barely aware of Finn and Poe returning breathlessly grabbing his elbow, lifting him to his feet. "Ok, done. Now let's blow this joint!" Poe's finger hit the detonator. Brilliant explosions lit up the interior of the shielding facility, all in tandem, fire licking at the walls, spreading upwards, the entire catwalk shaking beneath their feet.

Scrambling for the exit, the three of them made it out and started ascending the TIE's ladder, when a strange sensation struck him, and he paused, frowning as he glanced back over his shoulder. Something was wrong…

The scream of engines interrupted his thoughts, as he glanced up to the sky, seeing ships descending fast on them. Poe whooped in glee, grinning widely and waving his hand in the sky. "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about! The cavalry is here!" As they watched, the X-wings descended on the facility, laser fire dancing across the exterior, exchanging shots as TIEs rose to intercede at the attack. Still, he knew there was something missing, and his eyes remained focused on the station.

"Hey! Come on, get moving! This whole place is about to blow!" Poe shouted down to him, Finn's head poking out of the hatch, watching him with wide eyes.

"No… it's not," he muttered, frowning at the smoke rising from the assault, eyes following the swoop of an X-wing as it dipped down, landed a shot right on a radar tower and spun away avoiding the fireball that followed. "It should have been bigger than that."

"What?" Finn slid down the ladder, landing in the snow next to him, a keen look in his eyes. "What do you mean, bigger?"

"The plasma didn't ignite." His eyes narrowed, turning sharply to the two men. "We only damaged the generators. In order for the chain reaction to reach the core, we needed to ignite the plasma conduits."

Silence descended down on them, despite the roar of ships above. "So you mean all this was for nothing?" Finn asked uncertainly.

"No," Poe's eyes grew firm as his gaze locked on the ragged hole they had ripped in the side of the building, flame flickering greedily out of the charred metal. "I got an idea." His attention turned back to the two, focusing on the knight. "You got a ship here, right?" At the responding nod, he started climbing up the ladder. "Get to it then! I'll get in there and blow the rest of the columns… Then the rest of the squadron can break through the defenses. That'll do it, right?"

"It should," he agreed, feeling hope once more lift his strength and determination. "Just don't get caught in there when it starts to ignite or you'll be vaporized."

"No sweat. I've been in tighter runs than this… and this baby may not have much in the way of protection, but she's great in a tight spot and has some pretty heady firepower." Poe threw a roguish grin down at the two of them. "Make it to the ship and get the hell out of here. Oh, and remember to tell those fighters NOT to shoot at me. I don't plan on becoming a permanent resident of this icebox."

They didn't have to be told twice. Turning away from the facility, they sprinted across the tundra, dodging explosions of laser fire from the intense battle waging above their heads. It was all he could do to focus his thoughts, black and bright spots dancing before his vision as he pushed his body to it's already strained limits, forcing himself to move despite the distant sweep of cold threatening to encompass his mind. Reaching out once more, thoughts focusing, he swept the area, seeking out a familiar mind, and finding it, impressed the urgent need of assistance, just as behind them a ferocious explosion sent them flying face-first into the frozen ground, sliding across the ice as oppressive heat scorched their backs. Glancing up, they started as ships soared away rocketing into the sky, fleeing the fireball that pursued them, a few TIE's unable to escape in time, and were encompassed by the flames. Streaking upwards, he smirked as he watched one TIE in particular barrel roll to avoid debris, before vanishing into the smoke and flame.

That was one hell of a pilot.

Strong hands grabbed his elbow, lifting him to his feet as the former trooper yanked him upright. "Come on!"

He didn't have to be told twice. All around them, great chasms of ice were opening up, fire licking through the frozen ground, the earth cracking and bowing as quakes shook the surface. Whole ships were swallowed, trees cascading down with roaring crack of timber as the planet began to slowly break apart from the intense chain reaction striking the core deep beneath their feet. Finn grabbed him, jerking him to a sudden stop as the ground abruptly fell away, forcing them to come to a sharp stop, escape route cut off. Fear flashed over the man's face, but Ben was not paying attention, lifting his head skywards, a slight smile on his features as his gaze swept to the shadow descending down towards them.

Han Solo reached out his hand to his son, hair whipping wildly as fiery embers brushed their faces.

 _A flash of red, a sharp gasp, blood._

He stared, unable to shake that image from his mind. _His father's face, shock and horror written on it, a tender hand to his cheek, before he fell away into light, tumbling lifelessly, the crimson flare of a lightsaber leaving his chest as his hand pulled back._

"Ben!"

He blinked. Blue eyes, determined and fierce, stared down at him, as his father's hand reached for his, waiting.

 _The vision. It did not come true. It never can come true._

His father would not die by his hand, nor his mother, nor Rey. He would not descend into darkness as he had so feared.

All because his grandfather had offered him a lifeline, and he had accepted it.

Kylo Ren had lost. Ben Solo had triumphed.

A powerful swell of relief and pride filled him in that moment as he held his father's gaze, thinking of the path he had nearly taken, the path which would have only led to his own destruction. Instead, redemption loomed before him, inviting and warm.

His left hand met his father's, gripping it tightly as pulled himself onto the Falcon's extended ramp, Finn scrambling up not far behind.

"Go," he shouted, hair whipping across his face, trying to tear the words from his voice as he fought to be heard over the roar of wind and tremors tearing at the earth. "We have only minutes!"

"Where's Rey?"

An icy grip clenched down on his heart like a vice.

 _No….!_

Han Solo found himself jerked forward violently, his son towering over him, gripping a handful of his vest, wrenching him so close their faces were barely inches apart, umber eyes wide with something utterly undefinable as a snarl escaped his throat. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHERE'S REY?"

"She went after you!"

Horror gripped him at those words.

 _No…!_

Cold laughter echoed in his mind, malicious and mocking.

"We don't have time to go back for anyone!" Finn shouted, staring as the planet quickly was becoming a sea of flames beneath the hovering ship. "We gotta go!"

Desperation entered him as he shut his eyes and thrust his feelings outwards, searching desperately for something, anything that would tell him where she was. He felt the terror of the thousands of men around him, some fleeing, some dying beneath the sweep of his mind as he searched, desperate to find her.

Then… he felt her. Distant, but there. Scared. Captured. Fleeing.

"She's not here," he whispered, voice hoarse. "She's not on the planet. Go."

"You sure?" Finn asked, staring at Han wildly. "How does he know?"

"He knows, kid! He knows! Come on!" Grabbing his son's elbow, Han shoved the two of them in as the ramp raised behind them. "Chewie! Punch it! Get us out of here!"

He felt the whole world around him tilt as the Falcon tore upwards into the sky, the race against time growing shorter by the moment. However, Ben Solo felt none of it, as the sweep of blackness that he had managed to keep at bay reached it's dark fingers up to pull him down. And he finally gave in to the call, distant shouts fading from his mind as everything fell away from him into darkness.

* * *

Notes:

And finally we reach the climax of Act One!

Oh noes! Rey's in trouble! Now what!? Apologies to fellow Reylo fans... Did I mention slow burn? Yeah. Slow. Molasses slow.

Only one more chapter to go before the end of this segment. I will warn you, I'm not completely done with Act 2 yet, I'm halfway through, so that means there will be a significant delay before I start Posting Act 2, as I want to complete it and start in on Act 3 before I start putting it up. This is mostly for consistency purposes so I don't go back and change things later. I'm a huge fan of writing well in advance so I can stick foreshadowing and hints into early chapters.

I want to thank all of you for being so kind to bear with me through this, my first full Star Wars fanfiction. Your reviews and kudos mean a great deal! I started this just as something fun to do, with no intention of posting it, but thanks to the encouragement of C.G. (you know who you are!), I decided why the heck not.

Next Chapter: The Aftermath


	11. Chapter 11: The Aftermath

Notes: Thank you all for bearing with me on this adventure. This is the Final Chapter of Act 1, and it's longer than usual since I couldn't find a good place to break it up into two.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 11: The Aftermath

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he woke, it was to the soft hissing of hydraulics, the rhythmic beep of a monitor that was in tune with his pulse, and crisp smell of antiseptic around him.

A medical bay, then.

He didn't open his eyes, not yet. His thoughts were still fuzzy, though this time from exhaustion rather than the hallucinogenic influx of drugs that had been pumped into him. He could feel a sedative, but it was mild enough to leave his mind clear, and only attack the dull aches and pains that still plagued his tired body. Once more, the thrum of the Force filled him, a familiar presence that he had not realized had been so painful to lose as it had.

Nonetheless, he felt different. Changed.

For once in his life, he felt… empty. The rage, the anger, the raw pound of emotions were just gone. He felt as if something within him had broken irreparably.

Snoke was gone again, silent and empty as he had been before.

 _Rey…_

Snoke had her. This whole time, had that had been his plan from the start? The reason no one had come after him when he'd left, the reason he'd not suffered the horrible nightmares, not felt the iron grip of Snoke's presence in his mind like he had back on Starkiller base?

 _Had he been set up? Used? Was he nothing but a tool?_

Even Kylo Ren was unusually silent from his internal prison, leaving Ben Solo to cope with the weight of the question on his own.

How long had Snoke been planning this? The whispers in his mind had started when he'd barely been old enough to comprehend, and Rey hadn't even been born by that time. But perhaps Snoke had known anyway, how close and interconnected their lives would become. He had groomed the young vulnerable boy from the beginning… biding his time… waiting for the right moment.

And he'd fallen right into the trap, completely oblivious.

A quiet desperation rose within him. Was he just a pawn then? A means to an end? Had he no value to Snoke at all? What had it all been for, if not to prove himself worthy of the power of his name, his legacy?

No, he couldn't believe that. Snoke wanted power, and he had plenty of power. He wanted them both, he had to believe that…

Not that it made him feel much better.

Confusion swirled around his head, and he let out a frustrated sigh, finally opening his eyes.

Sterile white light blared down above him from above, military grade lighting set into a recessed bunker ceiling, a white curtain closing off some of his bed from the rest of the ward, though only partially pulled as he watched a medical droid shuffle over to a computer station, jacking in with it to upload data.

"Hey kid."

He hadn't expected his father's voice. His eyes shifted slightly up and to the left, and spotted Han leaning forward in the chair placed near the wall, blue eyes tired, but warm as he gazed down at his son. "You look like something a Wampa dragged home for supper. How you feeling?"

"Terrible." His hoarse voice further emphasized the point.

"Good. Means you'll live." That familiar cocky grin graced his father's weathered face. It was an attempt at humor to break the ice, so to speak, but he didn't smile back, instead shutting his eyes, trying to sort through the jumble of memories that followed their frenzied escape. He _really_ didn't want to have this conversation right now. It seemed like everything else, however, it was out of his control.

"...Poe?"

"He made it out just fine, he and Finn dropped by a while ago to check on you." That forced his eyes open, as he glanced back at Han, brow furrowed slightly. A wry smirk was directed back at him. "Yeah, really. Your mother was by earlier, but she had to go meet with the rest of the Resistance brass for a follow-up meeting. She promised to come by later when you were up to visitors."

He nodded mutely. So what was to happen to him now? He noticed that he was not shackled to the bed, which was something at least. A glance towards the door told him two guards were posted. So was he to be contained, executed?

"They don't trust you." Han seemed to be reading his mind, which was ironic since he was usually the one doing that. "But then again, they don't trust me either." A wry smile crossed his father's weathered features. "But considering you nearly single-handedly blew up the biggest threat to the galaxy, I think they might be willing to let you hang around for a bit."

"Mother is trying to convince them of that, isn't she."

"Yeah… she is," Han said grimly. "But you know how good she is at getting her way. She'll win them over. You got me and Chewie, and your two pals weighing in, too."

Silence fell over them again, thick and uncomfortable as years of buried resentment simmered unspoken. In a lot of respects, they were much alike, not liking to admit failures and weaknesses, rarely taking the first step towards atonement. But someone had to give. Someone had to take the first step to mend the friction between father and son. And it was with some surprise that he found his father broke the silence first.

"It was my fault. All of it."

He blinked, frowning slightly as he turned his head, gazing at the sudden tired look of resignation written on his father's face. Blue eyes shifted to him, and he saw the familiar weight of guilt that so often stared back at him whenever he looked in a mirror.

"I drove you away. I drove you to become… him."

 _Maybe. But not entirely. You are not responsible for my actions, only my emotions._

Han was being too hard on himself. Not that in some part of the foggy recesses of his mind he didn't relish hearing his father acknowledge his mistakes. He did enjoy the stir of justification that mingled deep in his heart with the conflict and anger that had haunted him for so long. But strangely enough, he found himself drained of the fierce anger and hate that had gripped him for so long.

He was tired of hating.

"You drove me away," he agreed, deep voice quiet, but rather than accusing it was tired. "But you are not to blame for who I became."

"Neither are you, Ben." Anger shone through his father's eyes. "Snoke manipulated you from the start."

"I know. But, I still made the choice. I did. Not Snoke. Not you."

They sat in silence, more being said through unspoken thoughts than could ever be put into words. All the shame, all the regret, all the guilt… both of them had much to bear. But for some reason, he didn't feel that precipice of darkness looming out beneath him, trying to pull him down. Instead, he felt buoyed by freedom of the shackles that no longer bound him, walking across the expanse on his own power unaided.

He suddenly knew what he had to do. And for once, he was not afraid. Exhaustion washed through him, but he forced the words out from the groggy recesses of his mind as he struggled to keep lucid.

"I'm sorry." He didn't feel wrong saying those words, despite the way his father stared at him in surprise. "For everything I've put our family through. I was selfish. And it cost you and mother." _And a great many more… but let's not go into my sins right now, one thing at a time._

Discomfort crossed Han's face, as he gazed down at his son. "I know I wasn't there for you like you needed, kid. And I can't defend myself, cause I don't have a good enough reason."

He didn't need one. He knew the reason. He had scared them. He scared himself. He knew there were few people prepared, able or ready to deal with the full power of a Force-sensitive boy who could bring down walls from the terrors he saw in his sleep. That resentment had been the focal point of his hatred for his father. The man who ran. His mother hadn't been much better, always dealing with diplomatic duties, unable to provide for her son who struggled to understand the strange visions that haunted him. His uncle had understood the visions, but sought to subdue him, change him, not develop his powers and let him flourish. Too misguided by dead teachers whispering on how to rebuild a dynasty, using the failed methods of their forefathers which had only brought ruin.

The Sith, the Jedi… Opposite sides of the same coin. Two extremes who could not find a way to coexist in harmony. Always claiming they wanted to bring balance to the force, but their idea of balance was to revel in darkness or light, when in truth balance meant the fine line between the two.

 _You have fought so hard to belong, Ben… first the light, then the dark… perhaps what you seek, is somewhere in between._

Maz Kanata may have been no Jedi, but she indeed was wise enough to see more than he had. When he had taken up the mantle of the Knight of Ren, he had done so under a misguided notion of bringing balance and order to chaos. Mistakenly, he had chosen the darkness out of need to rebel against the painful failings that the light had brought him. He had not sought balance, but instead delved into the depravity that lurked deep within his soul, passed down from his grandfather's legacy. Anakin Skywalker knew better than most the struggle between the light and the dark, perhaps that was why he had felt such a connection to Darth Vader and his vision of perfection. Tinged in darkness it might have been, but that didn't mean it HAD to be.

He could reforge his grandfather's legacy, and make it his own. Without need for slaughter and torment. Bring unity between the darkness and the light. Be the balance. Be the Force.

 _Walk the gray._

He realized he must have drifted off, because as his eyes opened again, Han was gone. A part of him was disappointed, but not in the way Ben Solo had been so many years ago. There was still much to be said between them before father and son could truly heal over the rift tearing them apart.

But they had taken their first steps.

Slowly, he pulled himself up, taking a deep breath as he flexed his shoulders. The wounds on his back were healing well, barely an ache remained, and a glance over at his exposed skin showed only faint scarring from his encounter on Starkiller. He felt stronger, his mind clear now, and the thrum of the Force once again encompassed him like a familiar blanket, ready at his disposal. The only thing that concerned him, was his right hand. It was still bandaged, and as he flexed it, it still hurt to move. A sharp tingling pain ghosted up his nerves as he bent his fingers, and he could feel the weakness of his grip.

Off to his right, he heard steps nearing and glanced up to see the medical droid approaching. "Good day, sir," the 21B unit said politely. "I trust you are feeling better?" He inclined his head slightly. "You are permitted to leave whenever you desire. Clothing has been set aside for you there," the droid indicated a bench nearby where he saw boots resting atop other articles someone had found for him. "I must however offer you options for your right hand. As you no doubt have noticed, it is a more serious injury than the remainder of your wounds." The droid turned to a medical screen and shifted it closer to him so he could see the scan of the damage. "I'm afraid there is nerve damage. Several shards of an unidentified crystalline structure have been embedded in the bone itself, causing damage to the nerve tendons. While your hand will recover and be of moderate use, I'm afraid the damage is irreversible, and your use of the appendage will be reduced."

His jaw tightened. "How reduced?"

"The likelihood of full use is approximately forty percent. You will not be able to bear much weight, or apply any amount of force with it. Day to day functions should be minimally impacted, however."

In other words, he would never wield a saber, or shoot a blaster with his right hand again. There was a certain poetic justice in that. He had lost his lightsaber, his iconic weapon he had built himself, and with it, the use of his right hand. He was, essentially, crippled in more ways than one.

 _Leave it to the Skywalker curse to strike on it's third child._

"I can offer you alternatives, sir." The droid, he decided, was far too chipper for his tastes. "Bionics can provide you a full replacement that will improve strength and stability to nearly one hundred percent capacity."

"No," his voice was firm, certain, quick. The loss of his hand as a weapon would be his penance, the price for his betrayal and failure. He absolutely refused to replace his hand with one like his uncle and grandfather both had worn.

He wasn't _that_ desperate.

"In that case, may I suggest learning to use your left hand as your primary appendage. It may be difficult to re-train the senses, but in the end you will find it to be more useful, sir."

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, flexing his fingers experimentally, feeling a strange tingling charge as he tensed and relaxed his digits. "Is there any risk to leaving the crystal fragments there?"

"They cannot be removed, sir," the droid said apologetically. "Not without extensive reconstruction which would require the replacement option. I removed all that I could, but there still remains some that are embedded too deep to retrieve. I have run an analysis on the fragments, and while they do carry an unusual energy signature that I cannot identify or analyze, I do not feel they would negatively impact a biological entity in a physical manner. If you do notice any side-effects, I highly recommend the alternative replacement as an option."

"Thank you. I understand." The 21B unit nodded, acknowledging the dismissal, leaving him to his own business.

Dismemberment seemed to be an occupational hazard of his family, he thought distractedly. Were all Skywalkers so lucky?

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and dressed. While he did not detect any monitoring devices, he did note they had felt prudent not to provide him with a weapon.

 _Some things never change._

Someone had thoughtfully fetched some of his spare clothing from his bag on the Falcon, and he dressed methodically, studying his reflection in the mirror as he stood. Dark brown shirt, black leather and armor plated vest, wide leather belt, knee high boots and canvas slacks made him appear less like Kylo Ren, more like a mercenary.

 _Or more like my father._

He held back a grimace then splashed water on his face, taking in the haggard man staring back at him. A few fingers ran through the rough sprout of facial hair that had made it's way into view over the past few days. He truly didn't recognize himself. The man staring back at him was not Kylo Ren. But he didn't see the young carefree boy that had he had left behind so long ago either.

He was a different person. It was time he started acting the part.

He left the washroom, after placing the cleaned razor on the sink, glancing at the face of the serious man gazing back at him. A finely trimmed line of dark hair remained on his jaw and lip, granting him an older quality more befitting to the man he had become. Somehow, he felt his mother and father would approve of this new side of him. Not the boy they knew, not the man he had become.

He was re-defined. Reborn.

* * *

The mess hall was packed with people, from pilots to ground crew, diplomats and officers. It was alive with sound, laughter and good spirits.

It was very strange to him.

He didn't thrive in populated places. Ben Solo had always been the awkward outcast. Kylo Ren had taken his meals in the solitude comfort of his quarters. His mercenary life had him keeping to dark shadowed booths, avoiding the lure of distraction.

This place was no different.

On his path from the medbay through the Resistance base, he had encountered plenty of personnel who had giving him one look, and quickly allowed him a wide berth. He felt even without his armed escort, they would still have stared. That did not bother him, for he was used to such treatment. For a long time, he had preferred it, and it did not strike him as particularly unusual, given the circumstances. Heroic actions may have stayed the executioner's hand for the moment, but that didn't mean all was forgiven. He would have been foolish to think otherwise, and thus, did not allow it to invade his thoughts. It was nothing to be pitied, he found comfort in isolation.

But the crowded mess hall was a whole different situation.

It seemed he was being given some leeway, not contained to a room or a cell, permitted to roam the base, with limitations, and his constant shadows watching him from a respectful few paces behind. Not that he intended to start any trouble, at the moment, he had one thing on his mind.

A strong drink.

Apparently there was only one functioning mess, and every single person on the base had chosen that exact moment to dine. In the corner, someone had burst out into song, friends chiming in. To the right, several sabacc games were in progress. A bored looking chef was dishing out what had to be the mystery meal of the day, and a rather frazzled looking droid was skittering about delivering drinks.

He felt distinctly out of place.

In the end, he had chosen the corner seat of a bar, back to the chaos, focused on the meal before him as the droid bartender hosted other more interested parties to his right. No one bothered him, in fact he had a wide radius of three empty seats as anyone approaching took one good look at who their neighbor was, and thought better of it. His escort took up positions by the door, steadily keeping an eye on him. He ignored them.

He stared darkly into the swirling amber liquid in his glass, watching the imperfections of the alcohol mingle with the melting ice. He never had been a heavy drinker. Dulling his mind meant releasing his hold on the Force, or in some cases, bolstering it to feed his swift temper. He had enough control issues without being inebriated. Still, he found the need to detach himself from the world calming in a sense. The dark thoughts circulating in his mind seemed further away with a curtain of alcohol dulling his mind.

Therefore, he was slightly surprised when he felt a presence slip into the seat next to him.

Poe Dameron didn't speak to him as he collected the bartender's attention to order a drink, nor did he attempt to dissuade him from his silence. For some reason, more was said between them when no words were spoken. Of course, it wasn't much of a conversation, but then he had never been very good at small talk.

"Heard they let you out. You still look like shit."

For some reason, that felt less like an insult, more like a compliment. He glanced at the pilot, not quite sure what he was driving at. "Did you want something?"

Poe didn't answer. Instead, he nodded in thanks as the bartender brought his drink, took a swig, then finally turned his head to regard the man seated next to him.

"First time I flew a mission… I remember it like it was yesterday, you know? That excitement, the burning pride…" He smirked slightly. "I'd trained for years. I knew I was good. I could pilot Landmark Skivvs in five klicks and not miss a target. Top of my class, cocky as hell, and ready to kick some ass."

Blinking slowly, a slight frown gracing his brow, not quite sure where this story was going, or how it related to him. He did not enjoy 'bonding' moments with… well, anyone, honestly. But he chose not to interrupt.

"It was a battle over a trio of moons. Intel had revealed a First Order mining outpost there, and we snuck in, struck hard and bombed the place. Was supposed to be an in and out mission, easy, virtually risk-free, and no patrols. Unfortunately, we hadn't realized one of the sponsors of the whole project had been visiting, which meant by the time we made the outer perimeter after performing our run, a whole squad of TIE fighters were on us." Poe's gaze had shifted back to his drink, expression somber. "I wasn't scared at all. I remember just falling into my training mode, dodging laser fire, then getting the shot and taking it."

Poe paused, voice growing quieter. "It didn't happen how I thought it would. The pilot I was fighting was good. Instead of my shot hitting his pod and blowing it on impact, it hit his wing. The whole ship spiraled directly at me. I tried to dodge, but it was all so fast, I didn't get the chance." His lips pressed together, and he lifted his eyes to stare at him, face somber. "In the moment before his ship impacted my shields, I remember hearing him scream. I don't think I had really put two and two together, that there was a person inside that ship fighting me back. Before that, it was just a faceless enemy I was fighting. But as that ship got close, I saw the man inside, heard him as he died, screaming. It was at that moment, that I realized… this man probably had a family, kids, a wife somewhere. He had a life. Like me, he'd been called to do a duty, and in so doing had given his life in the process." Poe's lips tightened as he sat in silence, studying his drink. "In that moment, I realized something. I was more than a pilot. I was a murderer." His grip tightened on the glass. "When you think about it, that's all we fighter pilots are, right? We shoot the enemy down, killing them. Sure, it's for a cause we believe in, a cause we justify into being worthy of taking that step to eliminate other lives so we can sleep better at night."

Slowly his gaze shifted to meet the steady brown eyes watching him. "Maybe it's not the same, I don't know. But the moment I realized that the enemy had a face, it became harder to do my job…"

His frown deepened. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Something changes when you put a face to the enemy," Poe said quietly. "It makes it harder to justify killing someone if you know who it is you're pointing the trigger at. I never gave it much thought before." He fixed him with a look. "The point is, as a pilot have to make the hard decisions. A pilot can't be effective if he isn't willing to defend the ones that are depending on him. And to do that, you can't go around hoping your shot will just disable a craft, you have to be sure it will take the enemy down. So in a sense, we have to be assassins for a cause… and that kind of thing takes a toll on you." He shook his head slightly. "Doesn't make it any easier, in fact there are nights I still wonder how the hell I can justify what I do. I wake up in a cold sweat, have to take a jog to clear my mind, and think about the consequences if I was to turn in my wings to ease my conscience."

His eyes lowered to stare at his drink, watching the ice shift inside the glass. He got the point Poe was making, in the pilot's round-about way to try and cheer him up he supposed. But there was a gaping maw between the two of them that separated killing for duty in the defense of others, and enjoying the sick satisfaction of creating chaos.

"I know what you're thinking… don't gotta be a jedi to know that." Poe flashed him a cocky smirk. "But even though I can't possibly begin to relate standing in your shoes to mine, the point is… I get it. You feel the weight of what you've done, and it's not something you can just abandon. I'm not deluded into thinking I ever will. I know I'll carry it with me all the way until I fly into the sunset. But because I believe it's the right thing, I find a way to push through it, and keep making the choices that I feel is best."

He tapped his now-empty glass on the counter, tilting it towards his drinking companion. "I don't like owing people. Han told me it was you who came back to get me out. So as I figure, I owe you one. And I know guys like you and me… we don't like having debts hanging over our heads. So…" catching the bartenders' attention, he ordered two more drinks, slamming one down in front of himself, and his bar companion, "...at least let me buy you a drink."

The pilot was right. He didn't like it one bit, knowing someone owed him one. It felt wrong, as deep within he still questioned if he deserved even this small gesture. "I thought you didn't trust me."

"Oh hell no," Poe snorted. "I don't. Honestly, the stuff you can do scares the bejeezus out of me. I remember the first time I saw you on the battlefield… you were like a juggernaut. I don't think I'll ever feel at ease around someone who can throw ten men across a room his mind. Just isn't natural… I'm more of a practical down-to-earth kind of guy." He lifted his glass slightly, regarding him evenly. "But… I do know that if you hadn't come back for me, I wouldn't be here to complain about it. And all I know is that juggernaut on the battlefield isn't the guy I'm sharing drinks with." Poe half lifted his drink, and he found himself reluctantly following suit.

He didn't have much to add to the conversation, and the feeling of discomfort persisted.

On the one hand, he understood Poe's story held a lesson he could relate to. He had been a murderer for a cause, acting on orders… so had Poe, though no one saw the pilot as a murderer, shooting down enemy ships. On the same thread of thought, he realized, his own family were just as guilty of murder. How many lives had Luke Skywalker eliminated the moment his shot had hit true on the first Death Star? How many innocent workers, ordinary people doing their job had been eliminated just because they chose the wrong side to be on, though they directly had no guilt associated with the mass-genocide weapon? So too was Starkiller, innocents had died to better the cause of what everyone saw as a righteous act of justification. No one would look back on the destruction of the base and say 'that was an evil act'. No one… except the families of those who died on it. But even then, they would have to be ignorant to ignore the danger of working on a project designed for solely one purpose, to eliminate lives.

No, he felt no guilt at being a part of destroying the base. Nor should he, he realized. It was as Poe had said, you had to do your job and move on, you couldn't think of the consequences or they would destroy you.

His uncle had murdered thousands, but was able to live with himself. His mother and father had played their part in the same situation, four years later. Now it was his turn, thirty years later. He had acted as a weapon for the First Order, killed at their command, sometimes in cold blood. There was hardly a difference between the two. Murder was murder, whether for a righteous act, or a deplorable one.

So why then did it still not sit right with him?

 _Because, the deaths by your hand were unnecessary. Starkiller's destruction WAS necessary. It was thousands of lives versus millions. You chose the lesser of two evils. If you had not taken action, your sins would be far greater._

He pressed two fingers to his head, the conflict driving him mad. Where was the line drawn? It was all some invisible morality that they as humans created to justify actions. The Force weighted them down in it's own way, judging silently.

He could never take back the lives he had eliminated. One did not recover from that. But, there was still a chance he could serve a better purpose and sway his soul away from the black pit that it had teetered upon, balancing back to the fine line between light and dark.

Strangely enough, that made him feel better. Perhaps Poe's 'pep talk' had not been pointless after all. Unwelcome it might have been, awkward for sure, but something deep within him was grateful.

He wasn't used to anyone speaking to him conversationally, as a comrade. The closest he'd come to was Rey. His expression pinched thinking of her. Where was she? He couldn't sense her anymore. He knew she wasn't dead, but Snoke was no doubt masking her from him. Which meant she was in danger.

He could only hope that she was stronger than he had been.

"Hey, Kylo… er… Mister Ren… I mean uh…?"

He glanced up, blinking. Since when had Poe been replaced with Finn? A glance at the three empty glasses on the counter told him the answer. _I really should stop drinking…_ "Ben." He corrected, frowning slightly. It still felt wrong accepting his own name after so many years of running from it. Especially considering who was sitting next to him. But he just couldn't stomach the idea of reclaiming his alter ego, not when he had fought this hard to prove that was no longer who he was.

It sounded almost like the beginnings of a bad joke. Kylo Ren and a stormtrooper enter a bar…

 _Kriff. He REALLY needed to stop drinking._

"Ben… right." The former stormtrooper was slightly more wary of him than Poe had been, but still he sidled up alongside him, staring at the three empty glasses on the counter in front of the man."This is weird, right? For you too? Cause it totally is for me. I keep jumping to attention when I see someone in uniform."

For a conditioned trooper who had been inoculated into the Order when he was young, he supposed it was even stranger for Finn than it was for himself. At least he had experienced this kind of environment as a boy, and his year of exile had dulled him to the newness of returning to moments wallowing in self-pity at a bar. Finn no doubt only had dined with other enlisted men, maybe not even indulging in becoming inebriated other than rare occasions, given alcohol was officially not permitted anywhere in First Order premises. Not that it stopped bootleggers, or the officers who were above such rules.

As it was, Finn was fidgeting, his dark eyes roaming the room uncomfortably. "You notice how everyone stares?"

"Yes."

An embarrassed look crossed his face as he realized how absurd the question was: of course they stared, he was Kylo Ren, walking among them as if he belonged there. "Oh right, yeah I guess you would…" He threw him an apologetic glance, and he was acutely aware that Finn gave him just slightly more elbow room, obviously uncomfortable at his choice to sit next to a man capable of taking out a hundred men by himself. "So… they say what's gonna happen to us?"

"No." He didn't feel like elaborating. If Finn had missed the sentries at the door, he was a poor excuse for a stormtrooper. Fortunately for them both, the dark-skinned man tossed a glance at their guns before having the decency to look abashed at the question, shooting him a silent apology.

They sat in silence, both nursing drinks as they shared perhaps the only thing that they had in common with each other, an understanding of being outsiders.

"I wonder if they'd let me become a pilot," Finn said thoughtfully. "I mean, I'm not bad with a blaster, but I always wanted to fly…"

He half-glanced at the man, as once more he felt a faint tingle at the back of his mind, the same thing that had drawn him to the man back on Starkiller base. Studying Finn closely, a curious thought occurred to him. "Why did you insist on bringing me?" At the confused blink directed his way, he elaborated. "On the base. You had no reason to bring me with you. Poe could have gotten you both out without my help."

"Yeah but then we wouldn't have blown it up." Finn flashed him a grin.

"True… but you did not know that at the time."

Finn blinked, and a strange expression crossed his face. "Yeah, I guess you're right…" He stared into his drink, poking at the ice with his finger. "I don't know, come to think of it. I mean… when I saw you in the hangar…" he shot him a nervous half-grin, "I was scared shitless, man… I mean I've never been in the field before. I was just a sanitation worker. They recruited me to the front lines because they were short on personnel. I'd never been in combat before, not real combat. I thought they were nuts asking us to take you on… no offense but you kinda have a reputation."

He just stared at Finn, eyebrow lifting very slightly. "Really. No clue."

Finn laughed uncomfortably, quickly averting his eyes. "Yeah, well. Anyway. I had this really strong… feeling I guess, that I had to get out of there. It didn't seem right to leave you there, I guess I figured we'd have a better chance with your help. It was just something I had to do." He squirmed slightly under the scrutinizing gaze he was being given. "Why? Does that mean something?"

"Maybe," he replied slowly, considering what he was hearing. "Have you ever had feelings like that before, where you knew what was coming?"

"Yeah, doesn't everyone? What's the term, deja'vu?"

"Not quite. More like a sixth sense. Perhaps in your training, you knew an opponent was going to fire on you, or ducked at the right moment before you were hit."

The contemplative look followed by slight widening of Finn's eyes told him the man had indeed had a moment like that.

"Hm. I thought as much." He reached into his belt pocket, and pulled out something that he had kept close with him up until their trip to Starkiller base, not realizing what destiny it had been predicting the moment he'd felt it's presence on Jakku. It appeared no one had noticed it nestled into his belt, or considered it a threat, so it had been returned to him with his other articles of clothing stored in the Falcon.

The kyber crystal shone in his hand, colors swirling gently, never settling on any one shade. He held it out to Finn.

"What is it?" Finn slowly picked it up from his hand, turning it over in his hands, studying it curiously. "What makes it glow like that?"

"Hold it in your first, and grip it tightly," he instructed, eyes sharply watching the colors.

Finn did as he asked, and the crystal's swirling colors seemed to slow, then began to coalesce into a gently glowing deep indigo blue, shining brighter in his hand than it had a moment ago. The man was transfixed, staring at it in wonder. "Wow… What makes it …. How's it doing that?"

"It's a kyber crystal. It reacts to those who are strong with the Force."

Finn's eyes shot open wide, and he promptly dropped the crystal on the counter as if it had burned him. It hit the wood with a loud clink, the color dimming, then re-setting to an indistinct mix of the spectrum.

"You may want to reconsider your options," he said appraising the shell-shocked man, picking up the crystal and quickly sliding it back into his belt pocket. "It seems you may have another choice besides becoming a pilot."

Finn's eyes were so wide, he could see the blood vessels straining within the whites of his cornea. He nervously licked his lips, swallowing to dampen his dry mouth. "You saying what I think you're saying?"

Folding his hands slightly over the bar, he fixed Finn with an even stare. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Like hell it doesn't…"

"It doesn't," he reiterated firmly, maintaining his even gaze. "Just because it's there doesn't mean you have to develop it."

Finn looked at him uncertainly. "Really?"

"My mother never did," he shrugged slightly, glancing back into his empty glass.

"Oh, right… the um, General, right?"

He nodded minutely.

"I guess being a political leader is more important."

"For her it was."

"What about you?"

His jaw tightened. "I was not given a choice." Sensing Finn's surprise he sighed. "My visions began when I was five. I had... difficulty controlling them."

They sat in silence, as Finn turned over everything that he'd just heard. In a way, he pitied him. It was one bombshell after another for the defectee. Hard enough ending up on a base surrounded by people who still saw you as an enemy, but now he had to question who he truly was, and who he wanted to be.

"Ben…" The two of them turned at the soft feminine voice that approached from behind. Finn straightened up somewhat, throwing a quick glance over to his drinking buddy, not sure if he should remain for what might end up being a private conversation. However, Leia placed a hand on Finn's shoulder with an encouraging smile. "Stay. This concerns you as well." Finn nodded slightly, glancing uncertainly at the sudden guarded expression on his drinking partner's face. Leia's face was kind as she gazed at her son, but he saw the General's mask fall into place with practiced ease. "The Resistance leaders have come to their decision."

He felt his own mask slide into place. "And?"

She regarded him a moment, then addressed Finn first. "Considering your actions and decision to help our cause, they have decided to offer you a complete pardon and invitation to join our cause. Any information you have will of course be valuable. You are welcome to stay, if you wish. Or, if you would rather go, we will help arrange travel to wherever you would like."

Finn's eyes brightened and he nodded. "...t...thank you ma'am. That's very generous. I think… for now I'd like to stay."

She smiled and patted his shoulder. "Then you are welcome to do so."

"And me?"

Leia turned her eyes back to her son, smile fading as she studied his face. He supposed he might have looked worried, for she slipped her other hand over his shoulder and squeezed slightly. "There will be a tribunal this afternoon to decide your fate."

His eyes dropped. "That was quick."

"They feel delaying action sends the wrong message. They must act swiftly to bring this conflict to an end and show the First Order the Republic will not be intimidated."

He could only nod, sensing Finn's alarm.

"They're not gonna kill him, are they? After everything he's done? I mean…" the man trailed off. "They'd have to kill me too, I'm as much of the enemy as he was."

"There is a stark difference between being a soldier, and a leader." He said bitterly, glancing at Finn. "You followed orders. I gave them. Not to mention hundreds of deaths are on my hands. You never saw battle until you met me."

Finn had nothing to say to that, lowering his gaze uncomfortably.

"Would you give us a minute?" Leia asked softly. "If you have time, Finn… can you speak with Admiral Satura? He is taking statements prior to the tribunal."

"Of course, ma'am." Finn rose and gave them a fleeting smile, before leaving. He noticed with some wry amusement that the two guards gave the former stormtrooper a glare as he quickly passed between them.

At least they shared that in common.

"Ben…" His gaze shifted back to his mother who had slid into the seat next to him. "...I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you."

He blinked, a sudden heat rushing to his ears, an old habit whenever his mother had offered him praise, haunting him from his youth. "It doesn't make up for what I've done."

"No. But it does show that even those who fall into darkness can be redeemed." Her hand weighed down on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. "Your grandfather learned that too late. I feared you might follow the same path, and meet an even worse fate."

"Worse than death?" he muttered.

She smiled sadly. "To lose your way and never return would mean you were utterly lost, to yourself, to your father, to me…" She squeezed his hand, slipping hers over it, weaving her fingers amidst his larger ones. "The fact you've found yourself after so much struggle, even if you're still searching for answers, it means more than you can possibly know." A sly smile crossed her face. "Besides… your father says you talk in your sleep."

The flush increased, and for some reason, he felt a powerful need to shrink into his seat. "...what?"

"You truly care for that girl. I think that's wonderful."

He slumped in his chair, face flushed, pale cheeks splotched with color.

His mother merely laughed, resting her head on his broad shoulder, fingers brushing the stubble on his chin, an amused look on her face. "You've grown more than you know, Ben. Somewhere along the way, the boy I loved has become a man."

* * *

He did not permit himself to feel the anxiety building in his gut as he strode into the central room where the tribunal was to be held. It seemed much of the base had turned out to see what became of him, given how packed the room was. He spotted Finn standing next to Poe in the front row. The former trooper gave him a tight grin, whereas Poe nodded once in acknowledgement, crossing his arms. The towering figure of Chewbacca was visible from the rear, his father's piercing blue eyes finding his as they shared a glance.

He moved to the center of the room, and stopped, planting his feet firmly on the ground, slipping his hands behind him as he fell into old habits by adapting a parade rest posture. The tribunal had not seen fit to cuff him, to which he was grateful. The least he could do was permit them some respect, rather than stand boldly as if intimidating them.

The tribunal consisted of three people: Admiral Satuna, General Organa and Admiral Akbar. _One for each perspective. The prosecution, the defense and the neutral party._ To the side, other officers stood at attention, watching him with expressionless practiced faces.

"This tribunal will come to attention." Admiral Satura's voice rang out clearly in the small room, drawing instant silence from all in attendance. He waited a moment, then turned his attention to the man standing before them. "Will the defendant please state his name for the record?"

"Benjamin Skywalker Organa Solo," he responded, deep voice ringing out clearly through the room, despite the fact he was speaking quietly.

"And is that the only name you go by?"

"It is not."

"Please state your other name for the record."

His lips tightened slightly, but he replied calmly, "Kylo Ren."

There were soft murmurings, but none of them included surprise. Everyone knew who he was by now.

"So be it. Let the record show the defendant has been positively identified." Admiral Satura regarded him, his expression neutral. "Kylo Ren, you stand before this tribunal to answer to your actions and participation in the First Order's super weapon, Starkiller Base, for multiple acts of terrorism in the Order's name, and to answer to the lives that you have taken. How do you respond to these accusations?"

"I acknowledge and accept them as truth." Why bother. They were true, no sense denying it.

More murmurings spread through the tribunal, quiet whispers following him from all sides as he kept his eyes locked ahead, face a controlled mask.

"You do not deny the charges?"

"I do not."

"You understand the ramifications of offering your acknowledgement of responsibility?"

His gaze slowly lifted, sweeping from his mother, over to the impossibly difficult to read expression on Akbar's fishy face.

 _I need this as much as they do. I need to acknowledge my sins._

"I am prepared to leave my fate to the hands of this tribunal."

Admiral Satura nodded slightly, and picked up a datapad. "Very well. Let the record show the defendant has admitted his part in these events freely of his own volition. The tribunal will then address the fate of the man known as Kylo Ren."

There was a long pause as all eyes remained leveled on him. He did his best to keep his face neutral, but a part of him was deeply aware that this was meaningful in a way nothing else had been before that moment.

"The Republic cannot ignore the crimes committed by Kylo Ren. By his hands, hundreds have met their untimely demise, untold numbers have suffered by his actions. He has been a key figure of power for the First Order, and was privy to the most intimate details of the creation of the genocidal weapon known as Starkiller Base. He has operated as the right hand of the First Order Supreme Commander, carrying out his orders and committing atrocities in his name. He is one of the few high-ranking members of the First Order that has been taken prisoner by the Republic, and therefore represents a high threat to the security of the galaxy."

His face was impassive, listening to the accusations in silence. With Hux still out there and Snoke no doubt infuriated at his open betrayal, he knew why the Resistance needed to make an example out of him. Still, he found himself wondering was his value greater than the need to send a message? Surely keeping him alive for his intel would be a more worthy decision than sending his head back on a plate.

"Kylo Ren. Do you have anything to offer on your own behalf in regards to these charges?"

His first instinct was to remain silent. He had no argument with the accusations, they were true. He was guilty of them. Nothing could change that. He did not want to plea for his life, he did not feel it appropriate. However, he realized if he just stood silent, he would not be providing anyone with closure, least of all himself.

Taking a slow breath, he lifted his head slightly, addressing the Admiral. "I will not insult those who have suffered by my hand by offering excuses nor apologies. It does not matter the reasons or purpose behind my actions. It only matters that I did these things, and therefore I must answer for that." He heard the whispers all around him, and waited until they faded again before continuing. "I acknowledge that I must answer for what I have done, and I will not presume to advise this tribunal as to what that retribution must be. All I can offer you is my co-operation in anything you ask of me. I place my fate in your hands. If this tribunal sees fit to use my information to combat the First Order, I will consider it a worthwhile endeavor."

Admiral Satura slowly folded his hands over the table, leaning forward slightly, regarding him with a stern look. "Are you offering this tribunal a deal to barter your life?"

"I would not presume to do so," he said firmly. "Regardless of your decision, I offer what I know that it be of some use." He knew what he was giving up. He was offering them carte blanche to do what they liked with him… and that very well might end with his death, should they chose. He did not want to die, but he felt he had to give them the right to determine his fate… leaving it out of his hands, into the decisions of those better suited to judge him.

The Admiral inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. "You state you wish this information to assist the Resistance in putting an end to the First Order."

"I do."

"There are those who would doubt the authenticity of this offer. Those who would say you are merely trying to buy a favorable outcome in this tribunal."

His lips tightened. "I do not intend to barter for my life, Admiral. If you wish to know whether I regret my actions, I can assure you that no amount of resentment anyone in this room carries can hold a light against that which I feel for myself. If I had intended to escape justice, I would have remained on Starkiller base and shared in it's fate. As it was, I chose to walk the more difficult path of returning to surrender myself to this court, with the chance what I have to offer could be used to further undermine the First Order's power. I do not regret that decision, though it may very well result in my death by this court's hand. If that is what must happen, so be it."

Admiral Satura regarded him as the whispers spread around him. "Very well." He leaned back, straightening back up into a posture of authority. "After careful deliberation and taking the statements from five individuals willing to speak on his behalf, this tribunal has come to a decision as to the fate of Kylo Ren."

Back stiffening, he remained at attention, eyes locked on the desk in front of him heart pounding in his chest. He had never realized how much he wanted to live until that moment. He held the fear back, refusing to give it quarter, and waited, breath held.

"It is the decision of this tribunal that Kylo Ren be executed immediately."

He didn't hear the murmurs this time. His eyes slipped shut, feeling the tension bleed out of his shoulders.

Oddly… he felt a sense of relief. _They are being far kinder than I expected…_ To leave him alive, that would have been a far worse punishment. He would have to face his own guilt and live with it. Killing him eliminated his suffering. It was a kindness he had not expected. He took a slow breath, and forced his eyes back open. He would not show weakness. He had to face this without fear or regret. Slowly he lifted his eyes, not daring to look at his mother, instead maintaining his focus on Admiral Satura.

"Kylo Ren, do you accept the judgement of this court?"

What more could he say? He had already granted them permission to do this… and he would not go back on his word. But he felt something inside him cry out in desperation, as he forced the words from his mouth. "I do."

It wasn't that he wanted to die… but did he deserve to live after the atrocities he had committed?

He had no answer that would not sound self-serving.

"So be it." Admiral Satura lifted a datapad, recording the decision, then lowered it, folding his hands over the table. "Let the record show that the First Order commander known as Kylo Ren has officially been executed by the Republic after his capture."

He lowered his head again, eyes shut. In a way, this decision made him feel free. To die meant to pay the dues he owed to the lives that he had taken without permission. Never mind that Starkiller…

His brain suddenly caught up to the words that had just been uttered.

 _Wait… what?_

He blinked, suddenly feeling like he was missing something very important here. ' _Has been executed?' But I'm still standing here, what the kriff are they intending to do? Kill me in front of the whole room?_ No, they couldn't be THAT cold-hearted. And there were no guns pointed his way. His eyes snapped over to his mother, finally risking a glance, and noticed a very small smile tugging at her lips.

 _What the Kriff was going on here?_

"The room will come to attention."

All around him, everyone rose to their feet, silence descending. Nervously, he glanced around, but saw a lack of hostile stares, instead, he saw some uncertainty, some respect and in a few cases such as Poe, Finn, Chewie and his father, pride.

 _What in blazes…?_

"Benjamin Skywalker Organa Solo," The Admiral's voice rang out clearly through the silent room, forcing his eyes back to him, "...your actions at Starkiller Base led to the liberation of Poe Dameron, the man known as Finn, as well as the war heroes Chewbacca and Han Solo from First Order custody. You also lead the assault on the base, orchestrating it's ultimate destruction. Based on intel received, the base had been preparing to test it's weapon on the Hosnian system. If successful, this would have meant the mass genocide of billions of lives. They are forever in your debt for altering that course of events.."

 _It was almost as if…_

"Therefore, it is the decision of this tribunal that you be awarded a Commendation for your part in ending the superweapon known as Starkiller Base."

He felt a strange sense of dizziness sweep through him. _They can't be serious?_

"In addition, your voluntary decision to surrender yourself to this court, and to accept our judgement, as well as willingly offer the wealth of knowledge at your command has led us to determine that we cannot afford to lose you as a resource. You are a valuable commodity who very well may be the key to bringing down the First Order once and for all. Few remain with your level of training, expertise and special abilities. The New Republic and the Resistance would be foolish if we did not take advantage of this opportunity to add your experience to our own. Therefore, it is the decision of this tribunal that you be granted a probationary commission as an officer under the rank of Commander, with all the responsibilities, duties and privileges thereof."

The room exploded around him. Voices, applause, laughter and, of all things, cheering. It was all he could do to stand there, rigidly, unable to speak as he stared at them in shock.

"Ben Solo, do you accept the judgement of this tribunal?"

He wanted to speak. But found himself utterly unable to utter a word. It was all he could manage to dip his head in a bow, shutting his eyes as the applause rose around him.

 _And so ends the life of Kylo Ren. A symbolic execution._

"A word of warning, Commander Solo." He opened his eyes, dazedly staring up at Admiral Satura as he held a hand up to silence the raucous crowd. "Your past actions under the First Order place you in a very tedious position. Not all of the voices in this Tribunal were unanimous in allowing you a place here. Some felt that the line between who you were and who you are is far more blurred than this decision has determined. The fact that you have not taken active part of the First Orders' decisions in the past year, coupled with the fact you seem to have accumulated quite the bounty for your return to the First Order helped convince those dissenting voices that your choice to join our ranks is genuine. However, heed this warning. Second chances are rare in this galaxy. Third chances are nearly unheard of. Do not give this tribunal the chance to convene a second time."

"No sir," he managed quietly, voice firm. And he meant it. Whether or not he was worthy of what he had been granted, he was not going to let himself fall to his own faults again. This time, he would make things right.

"Captain Wexley will brief you on the mission you have been assigned."

He blinked. "Mission?"

The wry smiles that were directed back at him were not exactly reassuring.

 _I have a bad feeling about this…_

"Considering you are one of the few individuals left in this galaxy capable of tapping into the Force, it falls on you to find the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker."

Well shit. He should have known there would be a catch to all this.

The expression on his face only spurred their knowing smiles wider. "This tribunal is completed… and good luck, Commander. I don't envy you." Satura stood as the tension in the room evaporated as the trial concluded with his head still firmly attached to his shoulders.

More than a few congratulatory pats on the shoulder were presented, not the least from a grinning Poe and enthusiastic embrace from Finn. "Man, for a minute there…" Finn breathed, staring up at him with an apprehensive look. "I thought they might actually go through with it."

"Me too," he murmured, running a hand through his tousled hair, aware his forehead was dappled with perspiration. _Since when had he been that worried?_

"Nah, the General never would have let them." Poe chuckled. "She just wanted to see you sweat a bit."

"Goal achieved," he muttered.

"Here." He turned as something firm was slapped against his chest. Glancing down, he tightened his fingers around the blaster shoved into his hands, glancing down at his father as Han slung an arm around his broad shoulders. "I'd congratulate you, but somehow I get the idea you're less than thrilled about this development." The cocky grin plastered over Han's face didn't help the situation as his father prodded his shoulder with two fingers. "Damn kid, I knew you had it in you. Just glad I was right."

"Is that your way of telling me 'I told you so'?"

"Hey, what can I say. You take after your old man."

"Mother might disagree with you."

"She always does."

It was a strange sight for all watching, to see father and son both laughing, embrace binding them together after years of deep rifts.

* * *

He soon found being legally declared 'dead' did not mean squat in the eyes of, well, everyone.

The decision to find the vanished Jedi Master hadn't been something that many had wanted to protest. Having Luke Skywalker return from his self-imposed exile would be a great boon to the Resistance.

However, sending the Jedi Killer to fetch him drew more than a few outraged protests.

He had listened to them argue for hours, silent the entire time. They had a right to mistrust him, after all the last time he had stood by his old Master's side, dozens of innocents had died.

And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Kylo Ren was the monster responsible.

He did not try to deny it. There was truth in that, thought they did not know the whole of it.

However, his mother's persuasive words about atonement, redemption and simple fact that part of the Jedi code was about forgiveness seemed to have changed their minds. After all, in the end Luke Skywalker was her brother, and she was sending family to fetch him. It was a private family matter. Nonetheless, that didn't stop the Resistance from insisting he did not go alone.

After much debate about just how many people might possibly be capable of preventing the former Kylo Ren from murdering the last of the jedi, they had came up with an arrangement that seemed, at least, to be the least volatile.

Chewbacca had volunteered his services. No one dared question the wookiees' offer. As strong as he might be, even he admitted he was not about to win an arm-wrestling match, nor stand a chance against his uncle's signature weapon. He knew from experience that thing could tear a man in two, and Chewie's aim with it was uncannily frightening. Han, naturally, would be accompanying him, since they would be taking the Falcon, freshly tuned up and ready to launch.

Finn also had decided he would go.

So too, would R2D2.

The little droid had delighted everyone when he had woken, most of all an ecstatic C3PO who had been extremely argumentative at the astromechs' decision to go on the mission. Without him, of course.

He hadn't seen the protocol droid since. _Probably tightening the bolts up his aft_ , he thought with a slight smirk.

On the other hand, considering how much those two had been through together, and never having had a memory wipe since well before he was born, he might be a little miffed too if he were in their artificial shoes, so to speak.

He had been somewhat hesitant to believe that he would even have been able to get any information out of R2D2, considering how long he had been in a power-down state. C3PO had told him the astromech had been that way ever since Luke had left following the temple massacre. He understood instantly what that had meant.

 _It had been his fault._

Therefore, when he had knelt before R2D2, and brushed the fine layer of dust off of his battle-scored chassis, he hadn't been entirely surprised when a flicker of light illuminated in the droid's display, shortly before a whirr of internal engines started clicking away shortly before the optical lense zeroed in, focusing on his face.

It seemed even Luke had known that it would be his nephew to seek him out.

However, that didn't stop the flutter of uncertainty gnawing away at his gut as he watched the sea-swept island drop into view as they sunk below the clouds of Ach'To, slowly circling for a landing spot.

 _Poe's map seems to have been correct… this is the place._

He heard his father approach from behind, joining him at the window as Chewbacca gently set the Falcon down. "You ready for this, kid?"

"Not really."

Han studied his son with a somber look, before gazing out at the island rising above them, half-shrouded by fog. "Think he's really here?"

"He is." He didn't have to search hard with his feelings. He knew. And there was no doubt Luke knew he was here as well.

"Well… don't let him start getting all preachy on you… I hated it when the old man did it, and I swear if Luke starts pulling that crap, I'm going to shoot him."

He couldn't help but snort in amusement. Not the first time his father had brought his namesake's enigmatic methods into the conversation. From what he gathered, Obi-Wan Kenobi had really rubbed Han Solo the wrong way.

It still hadn't prevented him from giving his son the old man's name.

The moment the ramp descended onto the rocky outcropping, he could feel a strange electricity in the air. The entire island reeked of a powerful swell in the Force, ancient, timeless.

It was nearly dizzying.

He hesitated, leaning on the bulkhead with one hand held above him, staring upwards, brow furrowed as his inner doubts churned. Was he really ready to face his uncle; the man who he had betrayed so many years ago; the man who had trained him since he was a boy, only to fail and watch him fall to darkness.

Mixed emotions swirled around his mind, indecision dragging him down.

"Ok, ready…" Finn appeared behind him, blaster rifle slung over his back, eyes wide and staring up the steep rock cliff where stones had been inlaid along a narrow ledge.

Taking a deep steadying breath, he shut his eyes for a moment.

 _The smell of flowers drifted by, filling his nose with their sweet scent. Bubbling laughter twisted on the wind, filling his heart with joy._

 _For Rey._

Drawing himself up straight, Ben Solo's face filled with determination.

"Let's go."

* * *

Notes:

And thus comes a wrap for Act 1.

Yes, yes, I know it still has a massive cliffhanger in the fact that Rey is not there. But we must have plot for Act 2, mustn't we?

Thank you all for leaving kudos and comments. You guys are awesome. It gives me great inspiration to read your words of encouragement and compliments.

An early apology, I've fallen behind in writing Act 2. So there will be significant gap between when I next update, as I want to finish Act 2 before I start putting it up here. But I promise, it has 4 complete chapters already, with an expectation to be about the same length as Act 1. Therefore, apologize but bear with me on the delay while I finish it up.

To those curious, my goal with this story is to try and not be 'predictable' and fall into the usual 'ship traits' of the fannon. So while I won't answer your questions on whether we will or won't see a 'Dark Rey' emerge, let me assure you I'm trying to write something that is bigger than that. It has been a challange to write without a Force Bond steering our star-struck couple together, but a challenge I feel is rewarding since it ends up in a deeper romance when you're not just writing off the convenience of Person X loves Person Y because of situations outside of their control. I wanted them to truly feel the spin of romance without outside influences.

I want to explore the other characters more, and not leave them to be blanket villains. While Act 1 focused on things more from Ben's perspective as he shunned Kylo Ren, Act 2 will delve more impartially into the motivations of Hux, Phasma, the Knights and the other players on the Order's side who we have yet to meet. My biggest pet peeve in fiction is just slapping an 'evil' title on a person, and saying they're the villain because of it. No one becomes evil without outside influence, in most situations. Even Snoke is not immune to that, and I really want to explore more about him, and what gives him the desire to 'rule all things'. Therefore, expect further character delving as we move forward. And a few surprises that I've been planning, leaving breadcrumbs for through the entire story.

Nothing in this story happens without a purpose. Everything has meaning and may become ultimately important in the end.

Until next time, farewell, and thank you! I will endeavor to work on Act 2 as swiftly as possible in order to bring you new adventures and drama as soon as I can.


End file.
